


The General's Treasure

by truth_universally_acknowledged



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate History, American Revolution, Black Petticoat Society, Espionage, Eventual Romance, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 58,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_universally_acknowledged/pseuds/truth_universally_acknowledged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ben watched Eleanor dance with Arnold and the other soldiers, and wished he were bold enough to ask her for a dance. If he were somebody else he might have done so, but with the revolution, he could never be worthy of touching something to pure, so out of his reach. All he could do was admire her from his place in the crowd. He much preferred war and intelligence to conversing with beautiful women. For some reason, the former seemed so much easier."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've collaborated with another writer on Tumblr to make this story work. She approached me with the idea, so technically, this story and this character are hers. I am merely the writer. Also, we don't own any characters except for our own Eleanor Washington. Enjoy!

Prologue

December, 1759

George smiled down at the cooing bundle in his arms as the snow fell gently outside. It wasn’t often that it snowed in Virginia, and it was a welcome surprise for such a merry time of year; made even merrier with the birth of Eleanor Grace Washington. His sweet daughter had been born just three days after Christmas, and there had been much joy surrounding her birth. 

George was a very reserved man—not usually one to express such strong emotion—but Martha said he had been “giddy” for the past week. And it was true. As George sat in his favorite high-backed chair in front of a roaring fire while holding his daughter, all he felt was such immense joy. 

Little Eleanor cooed happily again. 

Just then, Martha walked in with Jacky and Patsy in tow. Jacky tugged on his mother’s skirt and pointed at the little bundle that their father held. Martha nodded, and the two children toddled over to their stepfather.

“I want to hold,” said Jacky, looking up at his father with his innocent eyes. George smiled. 

“Later. She’s still very fragile.” 

“When?” 

“When both of you are stronger,” he said with a gleam in his eye, looking briefly at his wife. She too was beaming with happiness as she took her place in the chair across from him. She motioned to Jacky and Patsy, and the two of them climbed up into her lap and snuggled close. Martha watched her husband interact with their daughter, and let out a quiet laugh. Her husband looked up at her with a curious expression, as if to ask what she meant by that. 

“Will you ever let her go?” she asked. He’d been holding her for a few hours now, and the both of them had been very well-behaved. 

“I do not plan on doing so for quite a while,” he said, looking into Eleanor’s blue-gray eyes. They were exactly like his own, only they looked more charming on her infant face.

He never wanted to let her go, and he wouldn’t do so until he absolutely had to.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Here's the first actual chapter. Thanks to lehuntress for her help; as this is all her idea. We only own Eleanor Washingto n- everything else belongs to AMC, of course. You can find this on my Tumblr too: truth--universally--acknowledged.tumblr.com/fics. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**May, 1777**

Eleanor huffed with annoyance as she tried to slump in her chair. Unfortunately, her stays prevented her from doing so, which only caused her more frustration.

“What troubles you, Ella?” her mother asked, looking up from her needlework.

Martha Washington sat in a chair near the window in Eleanor’s room, looking fashionable as usual. She wore a deep blue gown with an ivory lace stomacher and lace trimmings, in order to reflect the blue and cream of the Patriot soldiers’ uniforms. She acted her part as general’s wife very well, Eleanor had often thought, and did so with such grace.

“Nothing,” she replied wistfully, folding her hands in her lap while looking dramatically out the window. Martha resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her daughter’s antics.

“You have been out of sorts all day. Whatever is the matter?”

A deep sigh escaped Eleanor.

“When will these parties ever stop? Don’t these soldiers have fighting to do?” she asked.

In the past few weeks, they had been to more parties, balls and public appearances than she could count on all her fingers. She was beginning to tire of it all. Usually she enjoyed these kinds of things, but it was growing quite exhausting. Her face actually hurt from smiling at the end of the day.

“Perhaps, but they are also happy to see you for a change. I imagine being around your father all the time is not as exhilarating as they imagined. And it’s probably been a while since they’ve seen such a pretty face.”

Eleanor protested at her mother’s words, but Martha only chuckled.  
“You may even find a suitable candidate for a husband tonight—just think of that.”

She groaned at those words. She was eighteen years old and it was high time for her to marry.

It seemed as if that was all that occupied her mother’s mind. Even her father had started making comments, which was so unlike him. He’d introduced her to many eligible men, but she simply wasn’t interested. It wasn’t that she did not find any of them attractive or good-humored — she just did not feel enough for them.

Her parents often grew exasperated with her dramatic and romantic notions. Eleanor had often tried to quell those feelings in order to appeal to her parents’ reason, but she found that she could not. That was just how she was.

She sat in silence as her maid put the final touches on her hair. The auburn tresses were piled high on her head and a single curl was allowed to lie loosely and gently over her shoulder. Eleanor expressed her thanks, turning to her mother for approval.

“Is all of this,” she gestured to her gown and hair, “appropriate to go mingle with officers?”

Martha looked up from her sewing and smiled approvingly. Her daughter had grown into quite a lovely young woman, and would undoubtedly be the center of attention tonight.  
The gown she wore was an ivory, cream color, with little red and beige flowers embroidered on it. Her petticoat was the color of wine, matching the three bows on her stomacher. Little glass earrings dangled from her earlobes. Martha would have liked to say she looked like a queen, but that comment wasn’t exactly favorable at the time.

“Just remember to smile, my dear. You look very severe right now.”

“I’m only severe because I’m tired!” Eleanor protested.

“The soldiers are even more so! You must look alive and well for them—after all, your father has promised them that you would be here. His officers found you a delight last time.”

Eleanor sighed. Tonight, she would have to be reasonable instead of romantic. It was her duty.

 

\-----------------------

 

Major Benjamin Tallmadge fidgeted awkwardly with his coat as he stood at the edge of the ballroom. Gatherings like this usually didn’t make him nervous, but he had people to impress. It was always good to remain in General Washington’s good graces, of course.

Earlier this evening, Ben had met the famous General Arnold, and had willingly offered him his place at the table. Perhaps he’d been a bit too eager, but he had been excited to meet the man. Martha Washington was the official host of the ball and it was rumored that her daughter would also be present. Naturally, he wasn’t completely at ease.

Some of the senior officers called him over, and he breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t completely alone.

 

\-------------------------

 

“Are you ready, Ella?” Martha asked her daughter, who was looking a bit nervous. Eleanor gave a weak smile to indicate her readiness.

The doors to the ballroom opened on command and they were introduced. The music stopped, and all eyes turned to look at them. Lady Washington smiled with ease, while her daughter surveyed the crowd with cool indifference. Her mother gave a short welcome address to which Eleanor paid little attention. Instead, her gaze swept quickly around the room. This wasn’t a particularly large gathering-- as it was a private ball rather than a public one-- but Eleanor still felt cramped with the amount of people.

A lovely Patriot family had graciously offered their manor for the occasion, as the headquarters at Morristown were not large enough, but the room still looked crowded. Officers, some lower-ranking soldiers, and all their wives and daughters were present.

The men and women seemed to separate naturally. Eleanor noticed this at every party she attended—the men gathered in one corner, looking at the women, and vice versa, until one of the braver men dared to ask one of the ladies for a dance. That would usually start a trend. Once the alcohol got flowing, those boundaries tended to dissipate.

Her mother ended her small welcome speech, and Eleanor only saw the flutter of hands clapping. The music started again, and her mother whisked her away to meet new people.

  
\-----------------------

  
Ben’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Miss Eleanor Washington. He now understood why the general referred to her as his precious jewel, but he never imagined that she would be so stunning. She had the piercing blue gray eyes of her father, and the delightful demeanor of her mother. Her smile was dazzling, and it almost seemed as if she were glowing.

“Major, you might want to pick your jaw up from the floor before she sees you. It’s not exactly the best way to make an impression,” came Mr. Sackett’s voice from behind him.

The wily man had a gleam in his eye as he sipped his drink.

Ben laughed nervously.

“I just…I was expecting…” he stammered, unable to find an excuse.

“You weren’t expecting a goddess?” Sackett offered, his expression growing more mischievous.

Ben shook his head.  
“Washington often speaks of Eleanor, but I guess we all expected her to be more childlike. She’s a delightfully witty little thing. Smart as a whip, I tell you.”

“You’ve met her already?” Ben asked quizzically.

“A few days ago, yes. Would you like me to introduce you?”

Ben began to refuse (as he was far too nervous), but it didn’t matter because he heard the general calling him over. His Excellency was addressing his wife, daughter, and some other officers. Eleanor looked so radiant and so at ease with the company – he hated to disturb it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ignore his commander. The latter smiled when he caught sight of Ben.

“Major, may I introduce to you, my wife, Lady Martha Washington, and my daughter, Miss Eleanor.”

Each lady curtsied slightly at the greeting, while Ben awkwardly bowed and mumbled something along the lines of “a pleasure to meet you.”

This moment had gone much better in his head.

“George tells me you’re the head of intelligence. That sounds very intriguing,” Martha said.

“Well…it can be, but sometimes it has its dull moments. But generally, yes, it is more exciting than being a foot soldier or something.”

Martha gave him a warm smile. She appreciated this man’s humbleness. So far, every soldier she’d met had boasted of his accomplishments to her. While she understood their need to impress, she appreciated the difference in the Major.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it later. Do excuse us,” she said as George whisked her away to meet more people.

This left Ben and Eleanor awkwardly standing together for a few moments. Neither of them really knew what to say—Ben because of his nerves and Eleanor because she wasn’t sure how to address a soldier. Yes, her father was a soldier, but that was an exception.

“Can you believe it?” she piped up, gesturing to her mother and father.  
Ben looked at her in utter confusion.  
“We’ve only just met and they’re already trying to set us up,” she said with a mischievous little smile.

“Oh, I…I don’t think that’s what your father meant,” Ben protested, still unsure of how to properly respond.

“I never know with him, really. He’s always trying new strategies. He fancies himself a mastermind and a spy sometimes, but he’s not so good at that. I guess that’s why he hired you.”

Ben looked at Eleanor in surprise. This woman was far bolder than the meek little girls who occasionally helped out around the camp. He appreciated it, but wasn’t entirely sure how to react.

“But head of intelligence? It does sound exciting. Do you have a network of spies you watch over or something?” she continued, looking up at him.

He studied her face closely. She did indeed have her father’s blue gray eyes, and they seemed to pierce his very soul. Her rosy lips and angular features reminded him of a Classical Greek statue.

“Ah, well, it is an interesting job, but…the specifics of it must remain secret.”

She raised her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued.

“How mysterious,” she said. Eleanor was studying him as well. He was about a head and a half taller than her, and she had to look up at him in order to study him. She was still taller than her mother (but only by a few inches). His face was handsome and he cut a fine figure in his blue officer’s coat. His blue eyes were soft and kind, but she also detected a hardness and a fire behind them.

“Eleanor, is this man boring you to death?” came a familiar voice. General Arnold appeared behind her, and they all exchanged their bows and curtsies.

She flashed him a dazzling smile.

“Oh, quite the opposite. He was just about to divulge all sorts of Patriot secrets.”

Arnold chuckled.

“I’d wager there aren’t so many. What is there to divulge? That we’re all holed up here, waiting for action?”

“Oh hush,” she said, chiding him gently. She hit him lightly on the arm, and the action did not go unnoticed by Ben. “You aren’t bored tonight. All of you are here, and you seem to be having a jolly time.”

“Very true, Eleanor,” Arnold concurred. “Care for a dance?”

“Of course,” she answered. “It was lovely meeting you, Major Tallmadge. I hope to see you around camp.”

Ben bowed his head, hoping he wasn’t blushing.

“Likewise, Miss Eleanor.”

He watched her dance with Arnold and the other soldiers, and wished he were bold enough to ask her for a dance. If he was somebody else he might have asked her to, but with the revolution he could never be worthy of touching something so pure, so out of his reach. All he could do was admire her from his place in the crowd. He much preferred war and intelligence to conversing with beautiful women. For some reason, the former seemed so much easier.


	3. Chapter Two

Ben became progressively more social and talkative with the aid of some wine, but he still did not have the courage to speak to Eleanor again; much less ask her to dance. He fancied that he saw her look over at him a few times, but he doubted himself, blaming it on the wine. Sometimes he felt unworthy of being in the general’s presence, so he wasn’t willing to approach his daughter.

That is, unless Mr. Sackett interfered again.

He’d been dropping hints and encouraging Ben to talk to her all evening but his actions were fruitless. If a more direct approach was available, it was unlikely that he would talk to her unless he had to.

At the moment, he was conversing with a group of lower ranking officers and a couple of them had noticed his unusual awkwardness.

“Major, what’s got you so glum tonight?” piped up one soldier. Ben jerked his head up.

“Nothing. Why do you ask?” he replied, looking genuinely confused.

“Oi, come on, he’s lying!” exclaimed Bradford, an officer of whom he wasn’t particularly fond. He was also very drunk, which only added to Ben’s dislike. “He’s been makin’ eyes at Eleanor Washington all night long, but he won’t ask her for a dance—or somethin’ a bit more.” He finished with a wink.

His comment elicited raucous laughter from the group. The major was sure his cheeks would be burning if he weren’t already slightly tipsy. After some bantering and a bit more jeering, he was finally convinced to go ask her for a dance.

  
\---------------------

  
Eleanor had been thinking of Ben as well, but her feelings were slightly less obvious. Even if they were, she would have no chance to act on them. It seemed as if every officer in the room was asking her for a dance in hopes of growing closer to her father.

While the attention was flattering, she knew it wasn’t all just for her pretty face or her sharp tongue. She’d hardly had a chance to rest --on the rare occasion that she did--she tried to make herself look as busy as possible.

Right now, she was surrounded by a group of ladies enjoying some good gossip. She was learning much about the goings-on in camp: such as who fancied whom, who was sleeping with whom and which ladies were related to which soldiers.

A few of the young ladies found Major Tallmadge handsome, but stand-offish. Too severe, they called him, and too wrapped up in his work. It came as a surprise when the Major himself approached their group and asked Miss Eleanor for a dance. The request was met with raised eyebrows and a few giggles, but Eleanor cared not, accepting his request graciously.

“Major, I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever see you again!” she jested as he led her out to the floor.

Again, he was flattered by her forwardness.

“I suppose I can be elusive sometimes,” he answered. He hoped he sounded witty but knew it was probably a rather dull response.

“That must be very helpful to you as head of intelligence.” He gave a bashful grin at her words.

The dance began and their conversation was chopped up into awkward little bits.

“You might think so,” he paused as they were separated, “but I’ve got spies for that kind of work.”

The conversation resorted to small talk from there, and it was few and far between, as the dance became much faster from that point on. The two of them didn’t know it, but all eyes were upon them as they danced. The men, of course, didn’t offer any constructive comments, but the ladies gossiped, no doubt sharing their opinions on the match. It was customary for the ladies to do so, and it provided entertainment.

Right now, the people remarked that Ben and Eleanor looked well together, but there were differing opinions. It was well-known that Benedict Arnold was interested in Washington’s daughter and the camp would be anxious to see which of the officers she chose. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Why else would she follow her father from camp to camp? Eleanor had no idea that these things were being said about her. Even if she did, it was unlikely that she would care, except if the comments were threatening to her father or to the cause.

But Eleanor wasn’t thinking about that now. Instead, she was acutely aware of Ben’s touch. It wasn’t particularly sensual, but she was marveling at his gentleness. The other men had not seemed to care as much, but the major touched her as if she were made of glass, and he was afraid to break her.

When the dance ended, Eleanor was a bit sad. The major had been a lovely partner. She wished they could dance for the rest of the evening and much to her surprise, he asked her for the dance immediately following their first. Although they couldn’t dance together all night, two dances were lovely enough.

The major proved to be an excellent dancer, even if he was a bit shy, Eleanor thought.

Ben was absolutely captivated by this woman. She carried herself with such grace and ease, and she wasn’t pretentious about it. He knew asking her for a third dance would be a bit absurd and raise questions, so he had to be content with just two.

This particular dance was much slower, and allowed for much closer contact. The two of them found it much more difficult to speak this time. Eleanor focused on his gentle touch, the rhythm of their moves, and the crescendos and decrescendos of the music. Skirts ruffled, strings hummed, and heels clacked, and that was all they could focus on at the moment. Ben would occasionally sneak glances at her piercing eyes or her rosebud mouth, but he didn’t dare stare.

When this dance ended, both parties bowed or curtsied to each other.

“You’re a fine dancer, Miss Eleanor,” he complimented, hoping he didn’t sound too eager.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Major,” she quipped with a sly smile. “Promise you won’t disappear on me again.”

His cheeks reddened slightly.

“I’ll do my best.” He cursed inwardly at his boring response.

She smiled once more before rejoining her lady friends. Ben watched her retreating form with a dreamy smile. Luckily everyone was too drunk to notice his expression, as it was rather comical. When he retreated to the comfort and safety that was the edge of the ballroom, Mr. Sackett appeared as his elbow.

“What did I tell you? Not so bad, right?” The old man was especially wily tonight, but that may have been because of the alcohol. Still, his eyes gleamed with their normal mischief and curiosity.

“No,” Ben answered wistfully. Not bad at all.


	4. Chapter Three

Everyone in the camp moved about a bit slower the morning after the ball. The day started much later, as most people slept in or tended to their hangovers.

Eleanor was up at a fairly reasonable time in order to take breakfast with her mother and father. The three of them did not have much to drink the night before. They of course had to be the examples of the camp, and with so many people to meet, it would have been unseemly to have been intoxicated at the time.

Today was going to be a much calmer day. Although Eleanor had been at camp for a few days now, she hadn’t had time to explore all of it and find her way around by herself. Most of the time, she was surrounded by her father’s officers who insisted on her safety at all times. She found that strange—she was surrounded by Patriots. How dangerous could it possibly be? It was going to be a hassle to try and go off on her own.

“Ella, how did you like the ball last night?” Martha asked, peering over her coffee cup to look at her daughter, who shrugged.

“It was lovely. I don’t think I’ll remember everyone’s names just yet, but it was good to see everyone that father talks about.”

Upon hearing the word ‘father’, George looked up with an eyebrow raised, as if to ask what was going on. He was reading letters as he ate, and didn’t pay much attention to the conversation of the females. They dismissed him quickly.

“Did you find any agreeable men?” Martha continued.

Eleanor sat her cup on the table rather forcefully.

“It’s been five days, mother. No, I have not.”

“My, you’re fiery today. I’m only curious.”

George gave his daughter a stern look, gesturing that she should apologize to her mother. He was so good at that—with one stern expression, he could have people melting into a puddle of tears in front of him. Eleanor muttered a small apology, but Martha took no notice. She only continued her thoughts.

“You danced with that one man twice.”

Eleanor knitted her brow in confusion.

“I danced with a lot of men more than once, mother. Ladies were in short supply. What ever do you mean?”

“No, I mean that you danced with that one man for two dances straight. Who was that again?”

“Oh, you mean Major Tallmadge.”

“Ah, yes. He’s rather handsome, isn’t he?” said Martha, hoping to get a rise out of her husband and daughter.

It was at this point that George began to pay attention to their conversation, albeit rather discreetly. He was curious to know what his daughter thought of the eligible officers.

“Yes, I suppose he is,” she mused, tracing her finger around the rim of her coffee cup.

“And was he agreeable?”

“Yes. I think he is a bit shy, but he was pleasant nonetheless.”

Martha smirked. When her daughter wasn’t as verbose or used vague terms when speaking, she was trying to cover up a stronger emotion.

George, however, snorted in an attempt to cover up laughter. Eleanor looked at him with a quizzical expression.

“Major Tallmadge is anything but shy. He’s brash and reckless, and doesn’t think ahead as far as he should.”

“So do you not like him?”

“I don’t think you two are suitable for each other.”

She almost spat out her coffee.

“Father, we just danced! I wasn’t considering him for anything more serious!”

George grinned wryly.

“No, but your mother might.”

Martha pretended not to hear, and sipped her coffee delicately. He carried on when his wife made no reply.

“What do you think of General Arnold?”

His daughter huffed.

“How honest do you want me to be?” Her father asked her to give her most honest opinion.

“Well…I find him to be…arrogant. I think he seems far more reckless than Major Tallmadge. And, I’m not sure if this is right, but there seems to be a bitterness about him that I don’t find pleasing.”

He nodded at her opinions of Arnold, taking in every word. His daughter usually had good discernment, and was generally an excellent reader of people.

“Why do you ask?”

“Excellent question,” he replied in an even tone. Eleanor rolled her eyes. He always said that when he wasn’t willing to give away his true reasons.

Martha lightly swatted his arm with the back of her hand, scolding him for bringing that up without explanation. George gave a wry smile before excusing himself. He had meetings all day, and intelligence to look over. Finding a husband for his daughter would have to wait until a little later.

As soon as he was gone, Martha spoke.

“I think Major Tallmadge is an excellent young man,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Eleanor looked up in confusion.

“I don’t dislike him,” she said.

“Oh, I’m aware of that. I just want you to know that if anything happens between the two of you, I don’t disapprove.”

Her daughter smiled sheepishly at her comment.

“I doubt we’ll see very much of each other.”

“Don’t be too hasty, my dear. You never know for sure.”

Eleanor decided not to pursue the subject any further, as she was already frustrated. Instead, the conversation turned to the plan for the day. They were to meet with the other ladies of the camp and help mend some of the soldiers’ uniforms. There was really nothing to do after that, but Eleanor knew her mother would find work for her somehow.  
Eleanor was excited to be doing something, though. Even if her mother asked her to do mundane chores, it was better than wandering around camp by herself, only to be escorted back to her father’s study by some officer who assumed she was lost.

Hopefully next time, that officer would be Major Tallmadge.

 

 --------------

 

“How was yer fancy party last night, then?” asked Caleb Brewster, being his usual gregarious self. His dark eyes were almost always full of merriment.

Ben shrugged as he sifted through piles of letters. The two of them were in the little shack with all the spy equipment, which they’d named ‘Intelligence Headquarters,’ or ‘IHQ’ for short. It was a lofty name for a rather simple shack with some trinkets.

“Not too bad, I guess,” came the major’s halfhearted reply. He knew Caleb was up to something, and he didn’t bother regaling him with stories to boost his ego.

“Not t’ bad? That’s all you’ve got t’ say, Tallboy?”

A heavy sigh escaped Ben. He didn’t bother to look up from his work.

“What did you want me to say?”

Caleb chuckled.

“I thought you were gonna tell me ‘bout Miss Eleanor Washington.”

The major looked up slowly, and the smuggler laughed even more.

“Mr. Sackett told me you couldn’t pick yer jaw up off the floor. Aint that right, Sackett?”

The older man looked up from his desk, a glimmer in his eye, agreeing with Caleb.

“So? What’s she like? Dark or fair? Quiet, or not?”

Ben huffed. He wasn’t going to get out of this one.

“On the fair side. And a bit more outspoken.”

“So she’s perfect fer ya then?” A grin spread across the smuggler’s face as his best friend spoke about this woman. Ben muttered something along the lines of ‘stop bothering me,’ but it didn’t work.

“When do I get t’ meet her?”

“She’ll stumble upon this shack soon enough,” said Mr. Sackett, taking Caleb’s focus away from the major, who was beginning to get annoyed. “She’s a very smart and curious young lady.”

“D’ya think Frida would like her?” the smuggler asked the soldier eagerly. “I keep telling her she doesn’t have to be so quiet and polite all the time.”

Frida was Caleb’s sweetheart, and he often spoke of her fondly. At a time like this, Ben would usually tease him about her, but he was too absorbed in his work to think of something clever to say.

“I think she and Frida would get along well,” Ben assured his friend.

Caleb smiled contentedly. He was looking forward to meeting her, and was already trying to come up with a plan for the two ladies to meet.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later in the chapter, a couple characters speak in Norwegian. I don't speak Norwegian, so I had to use a translation app. If there are errors, I apologize.

Eleanor did, in fact, stumble upon the major, and quite literally.

It was some time before she was allowed to go explore on her own, as her mother had dragged her along to a meeting with the ladies of the camp. Much of the day was spent gossiping while doing laundry and mending clothes for the soldiers.

Some of the soldiers loitered near the group of young women, hoping for attention. Some ladies willingly gave it and there was a lot of flirting going on. Unfortunately, a few had tried to flirt with her. She had been polite of course, but she wasn’t interested in these men. Her mother had frowned at her behavior several times, telling her to give more attention or they would think her a prude.

“Ella, why must you be so cold?” her mother asked as they hung clothes out on the line.

“I thought I was being polite!” the young lady huffed.

Martha gave her daughter a condescending look.

“Polite and flirtatious are different things,” her mother pointed out.

“Why do you want me to be flirtatious? What is it with you all of a sudden? Both you and father are acting very odd.” And I don’t like it one bit, she added mentally.

Martha sighed and sat down next to her daughter, taking her hand.

“We only wish for your best. We just want to see you happy, you know, with all that’s happened.”

Eleanor’s jaw tensed. She hated it when her mother mentioned the past. It was gone, and there was no sense dwelling on it. Perhaps that was bitter of her, but she didn’t like to bring back any painful memories.

Four years ago, her half-sister Patsy had died, and the incident had left the whole family grief-stricken. She and Eleanor had been especially close, and Eleanor never fully recovered.

Just a year later, she had met a wonderful man. He had helped her cope with her sorrow, and the courting process began. After a year of courting, when Eleanor was sixteen years old, an offer of marriage was made. The wedding would take place during the Christmas time, when the soldiers were allowed to go home and have some merriment for the holidays.

However, they never got the chance. Eleanor’s suitor was captured by a British patrol, and died during his imprisonment.

Again, she lapsed into distress. It pained her parents to see her so, and she tried extremely hard to be cheerful and positive around them. It was obvious, however, and George and Martha could not look upon their daughter without feeling pity and sympathy.

Eleanor swallowed and fought hard to contain the tears that were welling up in the corners of her eyes.

“I know, mother. I just…” she wiped her eye on her sleeve, “I don’t think a man is going to make me happy. It didn’t go so well last time, remember?”

Martha smiled ruefully at her daughter’s words.

“But he did, my dear. You were so happy together. He brought that light back into your eyes,” she said, looking straight into those piercing blue-gray eyes. “I want to see it again.”

She sniffed, wiping away a few stray tears. Her mother really did want what was best for her, and she felt terrible for resisting all the time.

“I want to be happy too,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry I’ve upset you, my jewel.”

Eleanor shook her head.

“Well, it does no good to dwell on these terrible things.”

Martha concurred, and the two of them hung clothes in silence. In a few moments, her daughter’s tears and sniffles had subsided, but the solemn expression on her face had not gone away.

“Perhaps Major Tallmadge….” Martha began, but was quickly cut off with a sharp look from her daughter. It was intended to be stern, but she soon cracked.

“We shall see, mother. Aren’t you the one always telling me to be patient?”

Her mother chuckled, and gave her a basket of clean clothing, directing her to take it up to headquarters.

Eleanor was glad to get away from that group of women for a while. It wasn’t that she disliked them, but sometimes she found talk of new stomachers and hats and handsome soldiers tedious. Who cared what the new French fashions were when there was a war going on? Men were fighting and dying for the cause—and all these women cared about were material things. Even worse, they didn’t seem to respect the men as soldiers. Instead, they saw them as potential suitors. Who in their right mind would get married in wartime? What if they lost their husbands to battle wounds or to starvation? It was as if all of this was a game to them, and Eleanor wished they would take it seriously.

Thoughts like these had earned her the adjectives “free-spirited” and even “brazen,” but that hadn’t hindered her efforts in making friends or finding some potential suitors.  
Not that she had cared for any of them. She’d been deeply in love with her fiancé, and after his demise, she was even more so convinced she wouldn’t marry until she found someone she loved deeply and passionately. She’d often told her mother and father these things, and they were exasperated. Although they appreciated her whimsy and romanticism in private, they often thought it a little embarrassing or indignant in public. Eleanor had since learned to curb her enthusiasm, but she still wished she had the freedom to express her ideas in the way that men could.

Sometimes she longed to be like her elder half-brother Jacky. He was able to go fight for his liberty and not have to worry about finding a wife. Why did a woman’s entire life and self-worth revolve around how well she could obtain a husband? Men were never told that their life goals were to find a wife and raise a family. Eleanor always hated that double standard, and was incredibly jealous of her brother for being able to make his own choices.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize it when she ran straight into someone.

The basket fell and clothes tumbled out all over the place as she began rambling an apology. The officer she ran into immediately got down and began to help her pick up the clothes.

“Goodness! I’m so sorry! I just didn’t realize…I hope I didn’t hurt you…are you alright…?” her voice trailed away as she looked up into the eyes of Major Benjamin Tallmadge.

Both of them were sort of lost for words at that point. Their silence earned a couple of hoots from nearby soldiers, removing the pair from their trance.

“The fault was entirely mine, Miss Eleanor. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He gave a small crooked smile to indicate that no harm had been done and extended his hand to help her up. She graciously took it. Even though the contact was only a second long, he still handled her like a delicate glass figurine.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked tentatively. The concern in his blue eyes was sincere, and did not go unnoticed by Eleanor.

“Of course not. And don’t blame yourself; really, I was daydreaming and not watching where I was going.”

She picked up her basket and rested it on her hip.

During their small exchange, he snuck glances at her. Here in broad daylight, he was able to see the full extent of her beauty. On the night of the ball, she looked grand in her cream-colored silks with her hair piled on top of her head. Now, just a week later, she looked stunning in a simple olive green gown with her auburn hair in a cap. A few stray hairs escaped the cap, and added to her carefree nature. Her entire demeanor was bright, and her eyes seemed to sparkle. Without all the silk and lace and jewelry, he was able to get a good look at her. He was also able to see a little more of her form, since this gown had less material. She had a lovely figure, and he would have liked to spend the whole day looking at her, but he could not.

“Is there anything I can help you with, m’lady?”

She giggled at his words.

“Major Tallmadge, you don’t have to call me that. Just Miss Eleanor or even Eleanor is fine.”

“Sorry. You just have this regal air about you. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say regal. That implies a monarchy, which is what we are trying to avoid.”

She smiled gently at him.

“My parents are really the important ones. I’m just here to do laundry and be an inspiring pretty face for the soldiers,” she uttered tightly.

Ben detected bitterness in her tone.

“I’m sure you’re more than that, Miss Eleanor.”

She looked up at him with wide sad eyes.

“No, Major. I am a woman. That is all.”

As soon as the words left her lips, she noticed her mistake. Although she did like to stir the pot, she had only recently met the major, and she did not want to scare him off.

“I’m so sorry. I should not say such things. I hope I didn’t dampen your spirits.”

Ben smiled sheepishly.

“No, of course not. Quite the opposite, actually,” he reassured her.

“Well, I should probably let you go. I don’t want my father to be angry with you,” she teased.

“I’ve seen his anger before. I’m used to it, honestly.”

“Still. It’s never a pleasant experience. Until later, Major Tallmadge.”

He wanted to say something in reply, but he didn’t want to seem too earnest. Saying “I hope to see you again” was too affectionate, and saying “it was lovely bumping into you” was awkward and untrue. It had been lovely to see her, true, but he felt bad when he ran into her.

So, he had to be content with a slight bow. She bobbed a quick curtsey before they headed opposite directions.

Each was on the other’s mind as they parted, and Ben was going to have trouble focusing for a couple hours. Those pretty eyes, pleasing form, and melodic voice would occupy his thoughts for the rest of the day.

Lady Washington would be quite pleased to hear of their interaction. Eleanor grinned as she entered the headquarters from the old service entrance.

Perhaps Major Tallmadge would be a suitable candidate, but only time would tell.

  

\--------------------------

 

Eleanor was glad to be out of camp and in town. Although it had only been a week, staying in a camp full of restless men could get annoying, and she needed fresh air.  
Usually she hated shopping, but if it meant that she didn’t have to do laundry all day, she wasn’t going to complain.

Her mother wanted the both of them to always look their best—‘to keep up morale’ she would say—so she’d changed from her simple green dress to a lilac robe a la polonaise. Her cream colored hat and Louis heels matched, and she knew she must look ridiculous.

George and Martha Washington had always been very polished; their daughter was no exception. Eleanor never saw the point, really, and always felt like a doll being paraded around for everyone to admire.

In town, she could feel all eyes on her. No doubt they were passing some sort of judgment, and she could not help but feel that it was negative.

“Mother?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“What is the point of carrying a parasol while I’m wearing a hat? Isn’t it a bit excessive?”

Martha was also wearing a robe a la polonaise, only in a light blue color.

“It’s part of fashion, Ella. It’s also very bright outside, and you especially have to take care of that fair complexion.”

“Well, I feel quite silly. I think everyone around us would agree.”

Martha sighed and shifted her parasol to her other shoulder.

“I think you are being harsh. What if they’re saying you look beautiful?”

Eleanor snorted in a very unladylike manner, which earned her a glare from her mother.

“I highly doubt that’s what they’re saying.”

To some extent, she was correct.

  

\---------------------------

  

Frida watched the two ladies across the street from her place behind the counter, and her face twisted into a grimace. She could tell that these two ladies were high born—their gowns said that well enough. However, it seemed that they were putting on airs. The elder one—Frida guessed she was the mother—flitted about the fabric shop like a bird. She seemed to be very silly. The younger one, perhaps the daughter, turned her nose up at everything and looked at things with disdain.

She guessed they were some general’s family, come to camp to help out the soldiers. She laughed internally at that thought. The only help ladies provided at camp was that of a sexual nature, or at least that’s what rumors said.

“ _Frida, hva er det du stirrer på_? Frida, what are you staring at?” came her mother’s voice from the stockroom. They spoke their native language, Norwegian, at home and to each other.

“ _De to damene over gaten_. Those two ladies across the street,” she answered, jerking her head in their direction.

Her mother walked out of the stockroom, joining her daughter behind the counter. She let out a low whistle at the sight of them.

“What fine ladies they are,” she remarked, switching to English, though still heavily accented.

“They look like a cartoon come to life,” Frida suggested disdainfully.

“I think their gowns are beautiful. Wouldn’t you like to look as fine as they do, Frida?”

The girl breathed more air out of her nose in disgust.

“ _Jeg tror de ser dumt. De er bare på leiren for å underholde menn._ I think they look stupid. They're only at camp to entertain the men.”

“English, Frida! There are customers in the shop. And don’t be rude. What if they come in here?” her mother barked and swatted her on the hand.

Frida turned up her nose and mumbled something under her breath in Norwegian.

She continued writing in the ledger, stopping only to greet the customers who walked in when the bell above the door rang.

Her heart sank when she realized it was the two finely dressed ladies from across the street.

“Ella, I really don’t see why you need more books. Haven’t you plenty at home?”

“Yes mother, at home. In Virginia. Which is far away from here.”

The ladies almost sounded English, but not quite. Perhaps it was a more refined colonial accent.

Frida watched as the mother eyed the bookshop with a studied air of indifference. She probably thought the shop “quaint”. That was what rich snobs often called a place like this when they didn’t want to call it dirty and small outright.

The daughter looked through the piles of books eagerly. Right now, she was looking through some of the history books with a gleam in her eye.  
Frida’s mother nudged her.

“Go ask if you can help them find anything.”

She glared at her mother in protest.

“Why?”

Suddenly, her mother’s voice dropped and she whispered in Norwegian, something she never did in front of customers.

“ _Jeg tror det er Martha Washington og hennes datter_. I think that’s Martha Washington and her daughter.”

Frida shrugged.

“ _Hvem bryr seg hvem de er? De fortsatt ser ut som snobbene._ Who cares who they are? They still look like snobs.”

“ _Frida! Gjør som jeg sier, eller du vil bli skrubbe gulv igjen._ Frida! Do as I say or you’ll be scrubbing floors again.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned. Whenever she refused her mother’s wishes, she was forced to do a horribly mundane chore. If it wasn’t done right, she had to do it over again. There was no point in risking that.

Plastering on her best pleasant face, she approached the daughter. If she had to interact with this snob, she was going to do it her way.

“Miss, the ladies section is over there,” she said with fake politeness.

The girl looked up with bright eyes. Frida thought she looked like one of those porcelain dolls that rich people bought for their spoiled daughters. Beautiful and elegant, but ultimately hollow and useless. Purely for decoration—and so brittle, like the slightest touch would crack her.

“Oh I know, but I’m looking for something to do with history. I find that I like more of a challenge when I read,” said the girl with a dazzling smile.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” Frida prodded.

“Ella, come on. We have to go to the milliner’s shop.”

“Please, just one moment mother,” the girl pleaded with her mother. The older woman raised an eyebrow, but consented.

“Actually, I am. Would you happen to have The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon? I’ve heard such good things about it.”

Frida resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“That sounds too heavy for a delicate lady like you.”

Eleanor was taken aback by her remark.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, do I know you?”

Frida shrugged.

“No, but I know all about girls like you.”

Eleanor turned slowly and put down the book that she was holding.

“Have I offended you in some way?”

“All girls like you are the same. You come in here dressed like the queen, and you ask for lofty books above your intellect so you can impress officers.”

Eleanor’s nostrils flared in anger, and it probably wasn’t a pretty sight. Who was this Norwegian bookshop employee to judge her? She had the ability to completely destroy her with words, but she knew her mother wouldn’t want her to make a scene.

“For your information, I happen to like history books. I’ve read the great philosophers, and I enjoy talking about them with my friends. If those friends happen to be officers, so be it. But I like reading the classics and commentaries about them. Just because a woman is pretty doesn’t mean she has to be stupid to match.”

Now it was Frida’s turn to be taken aback. In fact, she was quite stunned at the nerve of this woman. It made her feel uncomfortable, and she was growing unreasonably angry. She opened her mouth to retort, but the girl beat her to it.

“I’ll not have some stranger presume to know me. It’s very unfair of you to make such harsh judgments based solely on appearances.”

Frida was at a loss for words. The two of them glared daggers at each other before Eleanor curtsied, offered a ‘good day to you,’ and left the shop with her mother.

She watched her walk briskly out the door with her ridiculous parasol. Usually, she would feel bad if a customer left in such a huff, but today she cared not.

Unfortunately, her mother had been listening to the entire exchange. She looked at her disapprovingly, shaking her head.

“ _Du håndtert det veldig. Gå skrubbe gulvene._ You handled that terribly. Go scrub the floors.”

Frida sighed in annoyance. At least she would have a good story to tell to Caleb later.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning-there is a threat of rape in this chapter that some readers might find uncomfortable. 
> 
> Also, I’d like to apologize for the delay in posting—it’s been a busy couple of weeks. This is a longer chapter to make up for it. And for those of you who aren't on Tumblr: I posted a link to a playlist I made for Eleanor: 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/williams.carolineg/playlist/74vTyPsaadDxpyzu48Qz7j 
> 
> Enjoy! xoxo

Eleanor shivered as she left the house. She shouldn’t be cold; after all, it was late May.

She had just got out of a charity event with some of the other ladies. They’d sewn together a quilt and assembled ‘care baskets’ for the soldiers, and she’d stayed longer than intended. Her father wanted her to have an escort or a guard wherever she went, but she found that ridiculous. She was a female in a camp full of males, yes, but she felt sure she could handle herself if need be.

As she neared the edge of the village and into the white tents, music and bawdy laughter met her ears. It was a bit later in the night, meaning many of the soldiers would be heavily drunk. It wasn’t like they had anything better to do, and Eleanor didn’t mind it as long as they didn’t bother her or her friends.

There were rumors of British officers taking advantage of the young women in their camps, but she’d never heard of such a thing happening in a Patriot camp. Maybe it did, and no one saw. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

The wind blew and she shivered again.

Today, she’d worn her lilac robe a l’anglaise with tiny white flowers embroidered on it. It was a beautiful gown, and it looked well on her, as it displayed more cleavage than usual. However, the fabric was thin, and she had forgotten her cloak. Her mother had told her to bring one, but she refused. She would not give her the satisfaction of being right.

Suddenly, a group of three drunk soldiers crossed the path in front of her. Immediately she got a sinking feeling in her stomach. She had taken the path on the outskirts of the tent village in order to not be noticed—she never considered the drunks and other unsavory characters that would be loitering about here. She was now wishing she’d taken the central way.

Eleanor stepped aside to let them pass, hoping they would take no notice of her. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

“Oooh, lads, look what we’ve got here,” one of them said, looking at her. Her heart thundered in her ears as the three of them surrounded her.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out so late? And alone, nonetheless?”

She gulped and looked at the ground. Maybe she’d been wrong to think she could handle herself.

“Just on my way back from a ladies meeting is all.”

“I don’t buy that for one second. Look at the way she’s dressed! Aye, she’s probably going to go meet a lover,” one of them chimed in.

“Or several,” put in another.

This kind of speech shocked Eleanor. Of course, she knew that the men talked like this to their friends, but never in front of a woman.

“That’s no way to speak to a lady!” she said, suddenly looking up and crossing her arms.

The men all feigned surprise.

“She’s got a mouth on her, doesn’t she?” They all laughed again.

Eleanor was feeling more and more uncomfortable each second. Soon, her discomfort would grow into panic. One of the men peered closer at her, and recognized her face.

“Hey boys, it’s little Miss Eleanor Washington. We need to show respect, don’t we?”

They all mockingly bowed deeply, further insulting her.

“My apologies, lovely,” said the leader, his words slurring together.

“I really must be going-“ she said, trying to sidestep the group. These drunk men had quicker reflexes than she anticipated. One of the men tutted and stepped in front of her, far too close for comfort.

“Where to, Miss Eleanor? Gonna run back to old Georgie and cry?”

She said nothing and tried to walk past them again, but the leader caught her wrists and held her roughly. She yelped in fear as he pulled her closer, leering.

The two other men laughed. This was utterly entertaining to them. Her breath caught in her throat.

“What’s your father gonna do, lovely? He can’t win battles for shit. How’s he going to protect you?”

She looked at him straight in the eye, glaring daggers at him.

“How dare you speak of my father that way! He’s a far better man than you!”

This elicited laughter from all three of the soldiers, and the leader spoke again. He maintained a firm grip on her wrists, and Eleanor knew she would have bruises there soon afterward.

“Your father doesn’t have any sons of his own. So, he spends his time collecting young men here at the camp, because all he has is you: a frigid, insolent little whore who thinks herself too good for any of his soldiers.”

“How dare—“ she began, but she was cut off by a slap across the cheek from one of the soldiers. She cried out in pain as hot, angry tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. It hadn’t been enough to break skin, but it was absolutely painful.

This soldier wrapped a tight arm around her waist, while the other arm held the back of her neck. It was a position and closeness in which only lovers should be comfortable.

“Maybe we should teach this little whore about manners, eh?”

All of the soldiers laughed as her captor pressed her close to him. Her heart pounded, and her breath came out in short gasps. The hot tears dried up on her cheeks. Her eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty, which the soldier saw.

“Relax, Miss. It won’t hurt a bit,” he said, a malicious grin on his face. The group laughed again. Eleanor panicked. This was it, she thought alarmingly. She was going to lose her purity to a couple drunks.

She hit at his chest in attempt to escape, but her efforts were in vain. She cried out, hoping someone would hear. The soldier tried to shush her, but she bit his hand when he tried to cover her mouth. He cursed, momentarily letting go. She thought she could make a run for it, but the third soldier caught her by the arms and held her in place.

“Ooh, you’ve done it now, girl,” he whispered into her neck. He reeked of alcohol, and his warm breath sent shivers down her spine. Oddly enough, her blood chilled at the sensation.

The soldier she’d bit began to approach her with a wicked gleam in his eye. Before he could do anything, a voice called out to them and stopped them.

“What’s going on here, boys?”

All of them froze. Eleanor recognized the voice as belonging to Major Tallmadge, and relief flooded her body. He strode over to their group, a stern look on his face. When he saw Eleanor, his jaw clenched, and he looked absolutely livid.

“Let go of her now,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

One of the soldiers sidled up to him, a smirk on his face.

“Or?”

Ben clenched his fists along with his jaw.

“I’ll tell the commander in chief that you were harassing his daughter. He’ll deal with you personally. You’re going to regret that.”

The soldier smirked. Eleanor struggled against her captor, eyes fixed on the major, but her captor would not relent.

“That’s the worst that could happen? That’s not much of a threat, Tallmadge.”

“In the state of New Jersey, assaulting the virtue of a lady is grounds for hanging. Does that sound good to you?”

The three men looked uncertainty at one another. Her captor muttered ‘no’ and they backed away. They pushed Eleanor in the direction of the young major, who caught her before she stumbled to the ground.

“I suggest you leave before my temper runs out,” he said, teeth still gritted. The soldiers ran away quickly, (or as quickly as their drunken state allowed). Once they were out of sight, Ben addressed Eleanor.

“Are you alright, Miss Eleanor?” he asked her. His tone had changed to a much calmer and gentle one, but there was still worry behind it. His blue eyes were filled with concern as he studied her face. Her eyes were still wide with fear, and she seemed to be shaking.

Her breathing was borderline hyperventilation, and tremors wracked her whole body. Ben could tell she was trying not to cry. She tried to let him know she was fine, but her words came out in a shaky half-sob, half-laugh.

“I’m…I’m fine. Just frightened, I suppose. They didn’t do anything to me, but I was very scared that they would. You happened upon us at the right time,” she said, her voice about to break.

She noticed that he was holding her gently in his arms, as if to shield her from everything. She found his touch very comforting.

“I heard shouting and I had to see what was the matter. Are you sure you’re alright, though?”

She nodded. Ben noticed she was still shaking.

“Do you want my coat?” he asked, kind of hoping she would take it. She shook her head, trying to smile.

“Is that appropriate?” she asked, her voice still coming out like a sob. She’d wanted to sound a little flirtatious in order to bring humor and light to her situation. Unfortunately, her question came out more like a schoolgirl afraid to break rules.

Ben smiled down at her.

“Sometimes when you’re frightened, it helps you to wrap yourself in a coat or a cloak. I don’t know why, but it works well. Here, let me help you with it,” he said.

She reluctantly agreed. Had this been in any other opportunity she would have been positively thrilled, but it was not the case. She was too exhausted to resist. He shed his blue officer’s coat, and she was able to get a good look at him that way. Even in just his waistcoat and breeches, he cut a fine figure—muscular but lean.

He gently wrapped the coat around her shoulders, subtly looking her over for any signs of injury.

“Can I escort you back to headquarters, Miss Eleanor?”

She looked up at him with her pretty eyes.

“Normally I’d be stubborn and say no, but today, I’d like that, if you don’t mind.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you able to walk?”

Honestly, he wanted nothing more than to sweep her off her feet, but that would be highly inappropriate, considering that they’d only met a couple of weeks ago.

She laughed a mirthless laugh.

“Yes, I can. Thank you, Major. I don’t know what would have happened had you not been there to rescue me.”

Her gallant gratitude caused his cheeks to redden.

“I just did what any sensible man should have done.”

“No really, it was actually kind of heroic.”

He smiled and laughed nervously, still dismissing her thanks. He offered her his arm, and she graciously took it, heading back to headquarters.

 

\--------------------------------

 

When they entered the house, they found George and Martha sitting in front of the fireplace. Martha was wringing her hands in distress, while George stared intensely at the fire.  
Lady Washington got up quickly and exclaimed how happy she was to see her daughter as soon as she walked in the door.

The commander’s face showed relief, but he wasn’t as verbose as his wife.

“My jewel, are you alright? What happened to you? We’ve been so worried about you! The other ladies came back an hour ago, and when we didn’t see you with them, we became very upset!”

The mother showered her daughter with hugs and kisses while Ben stood awkwardly in the doorway. George beckoned for him to approach him and give a report of what had happened while the ladies talked.

“Tell me Major, what happened? Why is my daughter out so late, and why is she wearing your coat?”

Ben cleared his throat.

“I know it must look suspicious, sir, but I can explain.”

George bowed his head gracefully, indicating his willingness to listen. Ben related what he had seen—three officers surrounding Eleanor, one holding on to her, all very drunk, and their replies once he found them.

The commander listened with grave silence, but his jaw tightened. He was growing angry at hearing how some of his own men had tried to take advantage of his daughter, a helpless young woman.

“Did you recognize the men who threatened her?” he asked. His voice was low and even, but George usually displayed that calm and composed anger.

“One, sir. I didn’t know the others. I didn’t know the one holding her, but Bradford seemed to be the leader in this.”

George nodded slowly. He was going to ask his daughter her account next, and then he would decide how to protect her and what sort of punishment to levy for the men.

“Ella, give the major back his coat. I’m sure he has other business, and I would like to hear your side of the story.”

She nodded demurely, and handed Ben his coat.

“Thank you, Major,” she said, her eyes briefly meeting his.

He gave a short bow before putting on his coat. George took his daughter’s hand and led her to the chairs in front of the fire, asking her to tell her story. She did so obligingly.  
Ben took this opportunity to ask the general’s wife something he knew the general would not so easily answer.

“Lady Washington,” he addressed her quietly. Martha looked at him with kind eyes, thanking him for saving her daughter. He awkwardly accepted her thanks before asking her his question.

“May I call on Miss Eleanor tomorrow, to ask after her well-being?”

He swore he saw a glimmer in the lady’s eye, but it passed quickly.

“Of course, Major Tallmadge. I think she has an engagement in the afternoon, but nothing in the morning.”

Ben could have danced from his excitement, but then his feelings would be much more obvious.

“Thank you, your Ladyship. I look forward to it.”

They exchanged bows and curtsies, and he took one last longing look at Eleanor before leaving the room.

 

\--------------------------------

 

While Ben had been talking to Lady Washington, Eleanor related the story to her father. She told him how she got caught up in talking with her friends after the charity event, and how she used the path on the outskirts of the tents to go home.

Once she started talking about the incident with the drunken men, she had to hold back tears. She didn’t realize how frightened she was until she related the story to someone else.

George looked at his daughter with sympathy, and clasped her hand as she related the story. It was only then that he noticed the bruises forming on her wrists. He looked at them closely, assessing the damage they’d done. His nostrils flared in anger at the sight. Although he was glad she was not more hurt, these bruises served as a reminder, and he hated to see his daughter hurt.

When she was finished talking, he had made his decision.

“My pearl, please do not scoff at this idea when I tell you what I’m thinking.”

She nodded and wiped a tear from her eye, indicating that she was listening.

“I think for one week, I shall confine you headquarters. You can work as my secretary for that time. If you wish to leave, you must be escorted by someone of whom I approve. Right now, those people are Mr. Sackett, General Arnold, and Major Tallmadge. After a week, I would still prefer that you take one of those men with you. I don’t want you wandering around the camp alone again.”

She nodded reluctantly. Mr. Sackett wouldn’t be so bad, and she would be happy to spend time with Major Tallmadge, but she didn’t care so much for General Arnold.

“Are you sure I won’t be a burden to them?”

George smiled. His daughter was always thinking of other people before herself.

“Hardly. These men follow my orders. If I order them to protect you, they must do so.”

A few moments of silence passed between them as Eleanor stared into the fire.

“Those men said horrible things about you, father,” she whispered, as if she were talking to the fire and not to him.

George raised an eyebrow. Whatever she was about to tell him wouldn’t be news to him, but he was interested in hearing what she had to say.

“And what did they say?”

“That you haven’t got any sons of your own, so you collect young men in the camp as substitutes. And that you can’t win battles for shit, and that you’re a terrible commander.”

She deliberately left out the part where they called her a little whore. She didn’t want to cause her father anymore anger or stress.

“That’s been said before. It is not news to me, though I do appreciate your concern, little jewel.”

He stood up from his chair, patting her gently on the shoulder.

“I think it’s time you get some sleep. You’ve had quite enough excitement for today.”

She nodded and followed her father’s orders, hugging him before she trudged upstairs.

He watched her leave with a worried expression on his face. When he signed on as commander, he never thought he’d have to fight to personally protect his daughter.

~*000*~  
“Ella, I’ve got some news for you that I think you’ll appreciate,” said Martha as Eleanor sat on her bed in her nightdress. Her mother was still fully dressed, but she’d come into her daughter’s room as soon as she heard her come upstairs.

“What is it, mother?” she asked. She brushed her long auburn hair as she listened.

Her mother’s eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Major Tallmadge is going to call on you tomorrow morning.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened, but she tried to keep her excitement at bay.

“Is that so? Did he say when?”

“Tomorrow morning. I expect him around 10, though we did not specify a time. I’ll wake you up early and make sure you look your absolute best.”

Normally, Eleanor would have argued with her mother, but she was too worn out to protest.

“I trust you,” she said, yawning and setting her hairbrush aside. Before her mother left, she told her what her father had said, and Martha agreed. She didn’t want her daughter going off by herself anymore, and if any man were to escort her, she was glad that Major Tallmadge was a choice.

They exchanged their goodnights, and Ella tried to fall asleep. She tossed and turned throughout the night, occasionally waking up and checking that she was still in the safety and comfort of her room. When she thought of how Major Tallmadge rescued her, that put her at ease momentarily.

It was going to be a long night.


	7. Chapter Six

_The moon was full and bright, but the thickness of the treetops only allowed a small_ _amount of moonlight to shine through. Shadows obscured Eleanor’s path as she ran blindly through the trees. She didn’t care that branches snagged at her gown, tearing the fine fabric, or that her hair had come undone and was flying wildly about her. She had to get away from her tormentors. She could hear their jeers and their laughter, and it only made her more nervous as it got closer. All she wanted was for this to be over, but she couldn’t see an end to this._

_Suddenly, she tripped over a tree root and fell gracelessly to the ground. A sharp pain struck her in the ankle, and she cried out. She bit her tongue and tried to get up and keep running, but her injured ankle would not allow it. The three soldiers were not far behind-she could hear their voices growing even closer. With great effort, she crawled off the path and tried to conceal herself in the bushes._

_For a few moments, she thought she was safe. She didn’t dare cry out loud or breathe too deeply, so she had to be content with letting the hot tears run down her cheeks in silence. When she heard the voices even closer, she clasped a hand to her own mouth to keep from crying out or whimpering._

_Unfortunately, that did not work as Eleanor had planned. The leader of the group heard her, and the men began looking in the bushes. Her heart thundered in her ears. To her, it was as loud as a cannon, and she was afraid they would hear that as well. She shut her eyes. She knew it was a childish thing to do—‘I can’t see you if you can’t see me—‘ but she didn’t know what else to do. After a few moments had passed, the soldiers moved on._

_She breathed an audible sigh of relief, getting up rather clumsily, holding on to the tree to try and assess the damage done to her ankle._

_It happened unexpectedly. A rough pair of hands grabbed her from behind, whirled her around, and pinned her against the tree. It was the leader of her three tormentors, and he wore a menacing grin on his face._

_“We knew you were hiding, little jewel,” he sneered, his face inches away from hers. She tried to look away, but he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. The glint in his eyes was horribly sinister._

_“Now how ‘bout we get back to teaching you some manners?”_

_She shook her head vigorously, eyes wide in fear. He laughed that low, mirthless laugh again._

_“Out here, no one can hear us, so scream all you want,” he whispered in her ear._

_They finished what they had started at the edge of camp earlier that evening._

_Only this time, there was no one to rescue her._

Eleanor awoke with a start, hair plastered to her forehead heavy with sweat, hyperventilating. Tears stream down her face and her throat clogged with dryness. _It was only a nightmare_ , she thought with relief. She caught her breath and checked her surroundings, to be sure. She was safe in her small room in Morristown, all by herself.

Outside, the moon did indeed shine brightly. It cast a small ray of light through her window, bathing the room in a soothing glow. There was nothing sinister about this moon, or the tree branches gently swaying in the wind.

All was well, at least in the outside world.

The small clock above her fireplace read 3:00 in the morning. While Eleanor was tired, she could not sleep now, not when the bad dreams could haunt her. Taking a large breath, she decided to go downstairs, make some tea, maybe even read a book. Her options of distraction were severely limited.

She hastily put on her robe and tiptoed down the stairs. 

 

\--------------------------------

 

 George sat in his study, staring at the embers of the dying fire. His mind would not allow him to rest – not after what had happened earlier.

He’d often thought that bringing his only daughter—his absolute treasure and the apple of his eye—had not been such a good idea, but he also didn’t care to leave her at home by herself. Jacky was off fighting the war somewhere else, and Billy and Martha were here assisting him. Of course there were other servants that he trusted to take care of her at Mount Vernon, but he wanted to ensure Ella’s safety. He always felt better when he had an eye on her.

Not today. Today, he had been unable to protect her. Thankfully, the Major had stepped in before something too serious had happened, but the whole incident made him feel uneasy.

To make matters worse, he had to deal with Bradford and the other soldiers somehow. The army was waning in numbers already – he couldn’t have them executed. Technically, they didn’t do anything to her besides harass and scare her. It made him sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t afford to lose any more officers or soldiers.

He would have to think of an especially horrible punishment. There was no way he would let any of his soldiers get away with such ungentlemanly behavior.

 _My poor little girl_ he thought. All she ever did was try to make Martha and him happy, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness. She didn’t deserve such torment. Not after everything she’d been through.

He sighed and buried his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He hated feeling powerless.

“Father?” he heard Ella’s soft voice from the doorway.  He looked up and gave a weak smile. “Is everything alright? You look worn out.”

He laughed bitterly.

“In more ways than one, I should think.”

Ella gave him a sympathetic look. Martha often remarked how Ella looked like those Renaissance paintings of angels when she gave that look, and George agreed.

“Why are you up so late? You should be resting.” She asked worriedly. His precious jewel he thought, always concerned with his well-being. 

“I could ask you the same thing. Nevertheless, do not worry with your old father, my jewel. I have much to ponder. Tell me, why are you not asleep as most people are at this hour?”

She looked at the orangey red coals as she spoke, avoiding the intense eye contact with her father.

“I was having nightmares,” she said simply.

George did not need to ask her what they were about. The look on her face said it clear as day.  He softly rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.

Silence fell between them as Ella blankly started at the fire but one could see she was trying to hold back hot angry tears.

“Major Tallmadge said that the punishment for their crimes is a hanging.” She stated while rubbing off her tears with her robe sleeve. “But you can’t afford that, can’t you?”

She was looking at him now. He could see a mixture of fear, desperation, anger and bitterness in her stormy blue-grey orbs; but worse of all disappointment aimed at him.

He shook his head.

“I do not know what I will do,” he said. He wishes he had a better answer, but he truly did not know. He was not man used to being in this position; he never had to risk his family’s safety for the greater good of this revolution. He was completely lost in what to do. However, his darling Ella was always a creature of emotion, no matter how much she could see reason.

 “Father,” she pleaded, grasping his hand as if it were a lifeline, “Please. You must do something. I can’t…I just can’t…” tears now freely streamed down her face.

George patted her hand. It pained him to see his daughter in such distress, and he wished he were capable of expressing deeper emotional support.

“I will do everything in my power to protect you, my jewel,” he said.

He hadn’t kept his promise before, and quite honestly, he doubted his ability to keep this one. 

 

\--------------------------------

 

_The sweet, melodic laughter of a woman arose from the garden, followed by the jolly laughter of a young child._

_Ben smiled and looked up from his work. He strode across the room to gaze out the window and over the garden, folding up the document he’d been reading. He’d opened the windows in order to let some air in his study, which could sometimes be stifling._

_It was a beautiful spring afternoon, and everyone seemed to be in a much more relaxed mood. Eleanor and their young daughter were playing chase. The two of them looked so carefree, and he wished he could join them. The toddler hid behind the rosebush as Eleanor feigned surprise, pretending to search for her child. Her robe en chemise ruffled gently in the wind, and Ben could not help but think how ravishing she looked in the new fashion._

_He laughed to himself as she scooped up their child, and peppered kisses all over the chubby toddler cheeks. She looked up at the window where Ben stood watching, and waved quickly. A grin spread across his face._

_Eleanor looked down at the toddler, but pointed at the window._

_“Look! Can you see Papa? Say hello to Papa!”_

_His daughter laughed that gurgly toddler laugh, and waved her chubby little fingers at him._

_“Hello, Papa!”_

_He waved back as Eleanor beamed with joy. She gestured for him to come outside. There was no way he wanted to stay inside and look at boring accounts. It was an absolutely beautiful day, and it would be a shame to waste it._

_After a few moments, he joined them in the garden. As it was rather warm out, he’d shed his coat, leaving him in his waistcoat and shirt._

_Eleanor winked at him as he approached them. She’d often told him this was his best look. She shifted their daughter so that she rested on her right hip. This way, she was able to carry her with one arm and embrace her husband with the other._

_He took her free hand and brought it to his lips, gently kissing her fingers._

_“My love,” he tenderly addressed her. A light blush spread across her cheeks at his greeting. The toddler cooed and held out her arms toward Ben, interrupting their small moment. But Ben didn’t mind._

_“It looks like she wants you,” she remarked, handing over the child._

_Ben smiled animatedly as she cooed at him. He cooed back at her and laughed when she giggled at him._

_The rest of the afternoon was spent in the garden. Eleanor spread out a blanket and the both of them laid on it, basking in the warm sunlight. Their daughter was nearby, waddling through the flowers and giggling with delight at the butterflies._

_Ben looked over at his wife. Her hands were folded on her stomach, and her eyes were closed. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She looked as radiant as the day they’d first met. He covered her hands with one of his own, and her eyes fluttered open. He moved so that his face was above hers, cupping her cheek and kissing her tenderly._

_“I love you, Ella,” he whispered against her cheek. “Most ardently.”_

Ben woke up the next morning feeling rather foolish.

He’d only known Eleanor for a few weeks—it was ridiculous to dream of them together in domestic bliss.

 _Pathetic_ , he thought about himself.

He also knew that such things were unattainable. Miss Eleanor was the daughter of the commander in chief of the Continental Army, and her mother came from an old, distinguished family. She had been properly educated, and had probably never wanted for anything in her life. To be with him would be beneath her. He was the son of a preacher in a small town in New York who’d joined the army after university.

What could a proper lady possibly see in him?

He thought about canceling his call, but he knew he couldn’t. It was almost sunrise. To send a note at this time would be absurd. And it would reflect badly on him. Snubbing the general’s wife and daughter would not work in his favor.

All of these thoughts whirled in his mind, and yet, he didn’t feel defeated.

She had flirted with him and paid him compliments. Surely, that was a good sign. He desperately wanted to see her again – he really wanted any excuse to look at those pretty eyes, listen to her sweet melodic voice and feel her soft, light touch.

However, he did feel clueless around her sometimes. Conversations and flirting with beautiful women was not one of his strengths.

He inwardly sighed.He’d have to ask Caleb for some advice.


	8. Chapter Seven

“Tallboy, why d’ya care how you look t’day? You wear exactly the same thing, all the time. You look no differnt than any other day,” Caleb remarked as Ben fretted over his uniform.

The both of them were currently occupying Ben’s tent. The smuggler lie on the cot, tossing a trinket up and down, and the soldier stood frowning in front of his mirror.

Ben huffed as he buttoned his waistcoat.

“I have a meeting of sorts this morning. I need to make sure I look presentable.”

“You always have a meeting. Why’s this one so damn important t’you? Are they promoting you to commander in chief?”

Caleb laughed at his own teasing, dropping the trinket on his face. Ben looked at him smugly, as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

“No, but I am going to go call on the commander’s daughter.” He rushed the last part of his sentence, as if he were embarrassed to reveal his true intentions.

“You what?” Caleb asked, wide eyed. He scrambled up, a jolly grin spread across his face.

“You heard me,” Ben mumbled, pulling on his coat. It smelled very faintly of Eleanor’s perfume, and it made him happy.

Caleb guffawed.

“Good on you, Benny boy! Now hopefully ya won’t die a virgin,” he said cheekily.

Ben gave him a sideways glare.

“I said I was going to call on her, not…” his voice trailed off. He was too embarrassed to finish his sentence.

Caleb laughed again.

“You take things so serious, Ben. Just go woo yer lady, a’right?”

The soldier left the tent in a hurry, reminding the smuggler not to break anything or set anything on fire.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, or what they were even going to talk about. His nervousness was intense, and he hadn’t felt like this in…well, he’d never felt like this. There were different types of nervousness. Going into battle was an adrenaline rush. Almost being court martialed caused anxiety. This kind of nervousness was a tingling sensation in his stomach, and a bit of a lightheadedness.

He much preferred rushing into battle to talking with Eleanor. At least he knew what to do with the former.

 

\-------------------------------            

                                                       

Martha had woken up her daughter early to prepare her for the major’s call. From the surface, it seemed as though the mother was even more excited than the daughter, but Eleanor was trying to be more restrained with her feelings.She was usually more bold and outgoing, but sometimes her mother could be even more so. Truthfully she found it quiteembarrassing.

“Ella, wake up. He’ll be here soon!” Martha said in a voice about half an octave higher than her normal one.

Eleanor was leaning against the bedpost, yawning. Last night had been rough, and she hadn’t slept a wink. She was already up and dressed, but she wasn’t moving fast enough for her mother’s liking. When she tried to slump a little, her stays pinched her and she yelped, jumping up and knocking her head on the bedpost.

Her mother looked at her smugly, and Eleanor wrinkled her nose at her.

“Mother, can you please loosen my stays? I don’t think you’ve ever done them this tight before,” she said, pressing a hand to her stomach. They were unreasonably tight, and she could hardly draw breath. She was sure she would faint at any moment.

Her mother showed no sympathy after she verbalized this thought.

“Well, if you do faint, hopefully Major Tallmadge will catch you,” Martha said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Mother, please…” the girl pleaded.

“Absolutely not! Not until after he calls on you! Look how thin you look! And your bosom is even more….”

“This is excessive, mother. I look like I belong on the prow of a ship. Father would not approve of me going out like this.”

Martha rolled her eyes.

“If you’re so concerned, wear a kerchief. But really, don’t you want to show off a bit for him?”

Eleanor swatted her mother on the arm.

“Why can’t I just be myself? Why can’t I just wear what I want and say what I please?”

An edge of hysteria crept into her voice, and it sounded like she was going to break down in tears very soon.

Martha sighed. She knew her daughter was interested in the Major, but she was being so difficult this morning.

“What man is going to want such an independent woman?” she asked, adding the kerchief to her daughter’s light blue robe polonaise.

Eleanor pretended to be fascinated by the floor at that moment.

“Tom did,” she whispered faintly.

At that moment, Martha realized she’d gone too far. Tom had been madly in love with her before his untimely death, and he’d often remarked at how much he appreciated her strong will.

She knew that Eleanor was going through a difficult time, and as much as she’d tried to help her, sometimes she felt like she only made it worse. Perhaps it wasn’t so wise to bring her to this camp full of soldiers, as it brought back reminders of her late betrothed. Martha often thought she should have left her daughter at home to help run the estate in her absence, but George would not have allowed that.

She also knew that Eleanor’s usual cheerfulness and outgoing personality was her way of keeping sorrow at bay: if she could act happy, perhaps she could eventually grow to be happy.

All Martha wanted was for Eleanor to smile genuinely again, and she hadn’t seen that sort of smile in years. However, it had returned when she danced with Major Tallmadge at the ball a couple weeks ago. That had been the first time in two years she’d seen a genuine smile, and she hoped the Major could bring that light to her face again.

Of course, she would not share this information with her daughter, as she didn’t want to jinx it.

“I’m so sorry, little jewel. I should not have said such things.”

Her daughter shook her head, dismissing the apology.

“I know what you meant. I guess I’m still a bit frightened from last night.”

The lady looked pityingly at the girl. Perhaps she was pushing her too far, but she hated for her daughter to miss such a wonderful opportunity. She really did look exquisite—the light blue stripes of her _robe a la polonaise_ complemented her complexion and eyes very well. The auburn tresses were swept up out of her face, and she wore no cap.

“Come downstairs, my darling. We’ve got to make you look occupied when he arrives.”

 

\------------------------------

 

Looking occupied entailed sitting on the sofa whilst pretending to read a volume of poetry. Normally, Eleanor liked reading Andrew Marvell’s poetry by herself, but she was too anxious to really focus on the words. She was jealous of her mother, who was actually writing letters and doing something constructive.

She would have also liked to relax, but the tightness of her stays prevented her from doing so.

The silence of the room was also irritating her. Only the scratching of the quill and the ticking of the clock could be heard. At this point, even the dust particles in the little beam of sunlight that streamed through the window were more interesting than her fake reading.

It was nearly eleven in the morning when the Major’s visit was finally announced. Martha gave her daughter a reassuring smile before the parlor door opened.

He looked incredibly handsome, and Eleanor’s heart beat faster. Even though he wore a uniform every day, he looked more handsome than Eleanor remembered. Or maybe that was how heroes usually looked in the eyes of those they had rescued.

“Major Tallmadge! I am glad to see you,” exclaimed Martha. “I hope your evening was much calmer after the excitement.”

Ben smiled weakly, partly because he didn’t know what to say, and partly because he found it insensitive that Lady Washington referred to her daughter’s horrible experience as ‘excitement.’

“Yes your Ladyship, though I wouldn’t call it excitement.”

Martha raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, of course. But word is spreading about your rescue of my daughter, and people are calling it exciting.”

Eleanor huffed.

“Well, I wish they wouldn’t. It was anything but that. The entire thing was horrible. Except,” she said, looking at Ben, “your rescue, which was lovely, by the way. I don’t know how I can thank you enough.”

Ben coughed and laughed nervously.

“I was just doing the right thing, Miss Eleanor. People don’t deserve thanks for common courtesy.”

She smiled sweetly at him, and he felt his heart pound heavily in his chest. Her eyes were so piercing. They always seemed to be full of merriment, but Ben sensed something else in them, as well. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Sorrow, maybe? Anger? Bitterness? Whatever it was, it was a more poignant emotion—one that did not quite fit with the rest of her personality.

“What you did was far greater than common courtesy, Major.”

He smiled sheepishly, unsure of how to respond. This seemed to happen quite a lot around Miss Eleanor.

A few moments of awkward silence ensued, where no one knew what to say. Martha felt she could carry on with conversation, but she wanted to see what her daughter would do first.

Just when the awkwardness was becoming unbearable, Eleanor piped up.

“Major, would you be opposed to walking in the garden? It’s such a lovely dayoutside.”

Ben quickly agreed to her proposition. Even though he was only in the presence of two ladies, he was getting overwhelmed.

“Of course, as long as her Ladyship approves.”

Martha gently bowed her head to express her approval, but told her daughter to be back by noon because her father was expecting her.

Once outside, Eleanor let out as deep breath, or at least as deep as her stays would allow.

It was a lovely day in her eyes. Gray clouds covered the sun and skies, giving a cool temperature and lovely shade. It looked like it might rain later, but she didn’t care. She found this kind of weather calming.

Ben wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He knew a gentleman was supposed to offer his arm to a lady while they walked, but he wasn’t sure if that rule applied to ladies he didn’t know very well yet.

He decided to do it. Eleanor was a proper lady, and she would know whether it was appropriate or not. To his relief, she graciously accepted with a smile. Her touch was light, and she didn’t feel the need to cling to his arm like it was a lifeline.

Little did either of them know that Martha was watching them from the upstairs window. Her expression was filled with glee as she watched the major offer his arm to her daughter. If she could keep this up, her daughter would be married in no time.

Eleanor glanced back at the house briefly, as if to check if any other soldiers were watching the two of them and spreading gossip. Instead, she saw her mother in the upstairs window, grinning like a fool. She scowled at her before addressing Ben.

“I think I should apologize for my mother’s forwardness,” she said as they rounded the corner, past the honeysuckle-covered trellis.

Ben cocked his head, looking down at her curiously.

“Why? She is just happy you’re safe.”

Eleanor shook her head.

“I just thought it was odd that she said everyone is calling the events of last night ‘exciting,’ and that other people are referring to it as such. It makes me wonder—how many people know?”

Ben’s head was on a swivel as they walked about. He was listening to her, but he was also trying to be wary of his surroundings. Being a spy in charge of spies had taught him to always be on the lookout for potential threats, and that sense was now heightened in the company of Eleanor. Although he was ready to jump to her defense at a moment’s notice, he didn’t want a repeat of last night.

“I imagine the news traveled quickly. There isn’t much to do around here except gossip and drink, especially when there isn’t much fighting to be done.”

“Still. I would like to keep it as discreet as possible.”

Ben nodded, mentally noting her words as a plea to not discuss it with anyone else.

A few moments of silence passed between them as they strolled along the path through the garden. This was much less awkward than the silence in the parlor, and for the first time in a while, Ben felt a mysterious sense of peace.

He hated to interrupt the tranquility, but he felt he should try to make conversation.

“What did your father say about it?”

Eleanor mindlessly kicked a pebble along as they spoke.

“He was angry, of course. Not at me, but at the soldiers. He’s placed a few restrictions on my behavior so it doesn’t happen again.”

His expression changed to once of annoyance.

“That makes the whole thing sound like your fault.”

She smiled ruefully, shaking her head.

“He just wants to protect me. I am his only child, after all.”

Ben was curious to know what ‘restrictions’ meant, and hoped he could still call on her.

“What measures has he taken to protect his treasure?” he asked teasingly.

She looked up at him in amusement, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised.

“So you know of my nicknames, then? Such a terrible one. I wish they’d chosen something else.”

“People don’t get to choose their own nicknames, Miss Eleanor. I also think it’s rather fitting, if you don’t mind me saying,” he offered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, but she didn’t mind. She was happy that the Major was gradually feeling more relaxed around her.

“To answer your question, he’s confined me to headquarters for a week. If I need to go out somewhere, I have to ask his permission, and someone he trusts must accompany me at all times. So far, you, Mr. Sackett, and General Arnold have made his list of trustworthy people.”

Upon hearing this information, Ben was filled with questions, but it probably wasn’t appropriate to ask all of them.

“Is this allowed, then?” he asked, sweeping his arm through the air and gesturing to the two of them.

“I’m not sure if he knows about this. Mother can be very secretive sometimes, and I’m not sure that she told Father. But, I thinkhe will be satisfied thatI am with you.”

He knew she didn’t mean for her words to have a deeper meaning, but Ben took them to heart. He was going to make it his personal mission to protect the Washington family no matter what.

He still had some questions he wanted answered. Mr. Sackett was a trustworthy, respected man, and no harm would come to Eleanor if she were with him. But General Arnold? That he didn’t quite understand; he was still trying to figure out her relationship to him. She had seemed relaxed around him at the ball, and they were able to converse and dance with ease.

Rumors around camp said that Arnold was interested in Eleanor, and Ben definitely witnessed that at the ball. She didn’t seem to reciprocate his affections, which made him feel relieved, but he still wondered if there were any connections between them ~~~~which he was clueless about.

“All of you are fine men, and I don’t disagree with Father’s choices,” she continued. Ben bowed his head as if to thank her for the compliment. “But let us talk of happier things. I don’t want to talk about the events of last night forever.”

He grinned. She was straightforward and honest, something he hadn’t really seen before in a lady.

The conversation switched to more lighthearted matters. She asked him about his hometown in Setauket, his friends, and his family, and she listened with eagerness. It was easier to hold a conversation once she discovered what he liked. She loved hearing about the things that made him happy. His friends—Caleb, Abe, and Anna—all seemed like pleasant people, and she expressed a desire to meet them when she had the chance.

The time passed quickly, and before she knew it, the call had to come to a close. She would have liked to talk with the Major longer, but she had no plans to disobey her father.

When they made their way back to the house, Ben caught sight of General Arnold, and mixed feelings arose. He admired him as a leader, but was wary about him and Eleanor.

He was talking with another officer, but excused himself as soon as he saw Eleanor and Ben. He bowed briefly while addressing the Major before turning to the lady.

Ella sensed annoyance—or was it irritation?—in him as he greeted them. She knew it must look a bit suspicious…the both of them coming out of the gardens while she held his arm, but she cared not.

“Miss Eleanor, I’ve just heard of your unfortunate turn of events last night. I’m glad to see you are well. I wish I could have been there to defend you,” he said, a hint of fire in his voice. He looked fondly at her as he spoke, and Ben’s eyes narrowed.

She smiled good naturedly at the general.

“Such gallant words, General Arnold. I have no doubt of your bravery. Thankfully, Major Tallmadge was there to rescue me,” she said, tapping on Ben’s arm and looking up at him quickly.

She thought she saw a flash of jealousy in the General’s eyes as she spoke. Perhaps she imagined it, but his demeanor seemed to stiffen at her words.

“How very heroic, Major. Your deeds should be praised.”

Ben shook his head.

“We’re trying to keep it discreet. Miss Eleanor has already expressed her wishes to keep it out of gossip as much as possible.”

Eleanor nodded.

“I realize that may be impossible in a place such as this, but even so,” she agreed with the Major.

Arnold smiled coolly.

“I understand, Miss Eleanor. Unfortunately, I must be leaving. Until later,” he said in a curt tone, bidding both of them goodbye.

Eleanor thought the whole thing exchange very odd, as did Ben. At another time, they would have remarked on his odd behavior, but there seemed to be a mutual understanding between them at the moment.

“I suppose I should be going as well. I have a meeting with your father relatively soon.”

In any other circumstance, Eleanor would have invited him in for tea, but not today. She knew her mother would be waiting, and she would pester the both of them with questions.

“When will I see you again, Major?” she asked. She no longer held his arm—instead; she clasped her hands demurely before her.

He gave an amused smile.

“Soon, I expect. You’re not allowed anywhere without me,” he answered flirtatiously.  

She gave a lighthearted giggle.

“Until next time, then?”

“Until next time,” he confirmed, still smiling.

The two of them went their separate ways, each thinking fondly of the other. It seemed to each of them that this was the start of something fantastic.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look on my Tumblr page for a special announcement! majorstallmadge and I are announcing a new TURN story, and the details are posted here: http://truth--universally--acknowledged.tumblr.com/post/123113390130/desperate-measures-frida-r-lvaag-is-a-norwegian


	9. Chapter Eight

**June 1777**

Eleanor was in a dilemma. She was tired of staying within the house, but she also hadn’t mustered up the courage to go anywhere by herself yet. She was suspicious of every man in the camp now, and she knew that she would get pitying looks from the women as they passed by, gossiping about her experience in hushed tones. She wasn’t allowed outside without a chaperone and they were often busy – so she spent much of her time inside reading or practicing her music. Sometimes her father would ask her to file away letters and other documents in order to distract her or make her feel useful, but the incident was always at the back of her mind. ~~~~

Earlier in the week, two of the men that had attacked her had been punished. Her father had ordered them to be hanged, and had made a very stern announcement that such behaviors against any lady would result in the same fate. One of the men escaped the noose. Apparently General Lee had negotiated lighter punishment for him, and her father had accepted his terms. The man had been publicly flogged and demoted, then transferred somewhere far from Morristown.

She knew her father had struggled with the decision, but honestly, she was glad of it. No lady should have to feel unsafe in the presence of soldiers, especially those fighting for their freedom.

She pushed these dark thoughts to the back of her mind.

Absentmindedly, she stacked the letters. Her father received a countless amount, and he’d ask her to sort them into categories so that he wasn’t swimming in papers. This meant that she got to read a few of them, which could sometimes prove entertaining. It helped her to understand more about military matters in general, such as how the chain of command worked, and what it took to move an army from place to place.

Today, she found nothing amusing. Staring wistfully out the window, she sighed. It was as if the sun were mocking her. It blazed brightly, beating down on the back of soldiers doing their training and women hanging laundry. She had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach—she wanted to go outside and explore or lounge in the sun, but she also didn’t feel like taking any risks. It was most unlike her.

George looked up from his work, first at the clock, and then at his daughter. Eleanor was staring out of the window, a thoughtful expression on her face. He did hate to keep her cooped up, but he didn’t know what else to do. After some of his own soldiers had attacked her, he didn’t want her wandering out by herself. He’d even considered sending her home, but he knew she would protest. He also didn’t like the idea of his wife and daughter travelling back to Virginia by themselves.

There was a lot to think about, and he didn’t have time to do so at the moment. He had meetings with various officers lined up throughout the day, and he had to focus on work.

“Ella,” he said gently. It took her a moment to snap out of her dreamy state, and she looked at him with her wide blue eyes. “You may leave if you wish. You’ve helped me a great deal today.”

She nodded gently. Sorting and filing letters wasn’t particularly difficult, and she hadn’t really done a lot, but she knew her father felt guilty seeing her this way. She thanked him before curtsying and leaving his office.

\------------------------

Eleanor had often found that playing the pianoforte was a great source of distraction. She was able to let her fingers glide over the keys without much thought. Music brought her great joy. Her mother had taught her to play the harpsichord as a very young child, and when she got a governess, the governess taught her to transfer those skills to the pianoforte.

She’d taken to both marvelously, and everyone who had a chance to hear her play commented on how gifted she was. At dinner parties, she often played to entertain the guests. The attention was flattering, but she did often feel like she was being put on a pedestal for people to admire.

Right now, none of that mattered. She was alone, content to play simply for herself.

\------------------------

Ben took a deep breath as he entered the headquarters. He wondered what he was going to say to Washington. He didn’t exactly have a lot of new intelligence to divulge, and he knew the general wouldn’t be pleased. Mr. Sackett was meeting with him beforehand, and Ben desperately wanted to know what they were discussing. Perhaps he would tell him about it later, but Sackett could be very secretive sometimes.

Before his thoughts turned to worry, he heard gentle piano music playing faintly somewhere in the house. He let himself listen for a few moments before deciding to follow the sound. This melody was sweet and clear, giving him a sense of peace, and he found himself strangely drawn to it.

His footsteps tread lightly as he walked down the hall, as if he were afraid to interrupt the music.

When he found the source of the sound, his heartbeat began to quicken. Eleanor sat at the pianoforte, her fingers gliding over the keyboard effortlessly. He lingered in the doorway, careful to make no sounds. She looked so beautiful in that moment—the dark blue _robe a l’anglaise_ she wore accentuated her lovely figure and complemented her milky skin. Her dark red locks were swept up in soft waves at the back of her neck, but those things weren’t what interested Ben so. The sunlight shone brightly through the window, bathing her in an ethereal sort of glow. The light illuminated her soft features, and she looked so innocent. He had never seen her this way before. Her expression was calm, almost dreamlike, and she sat in a more serene manner. This sight was rare and beautiful. When she finished her song, she bowed her head gracefully and lifted her hands from the keys.

“That was very lovely, Miss Eleanor,” he commented, revealing himself.

She inhaled sharply and looked across the room to see her silent spectator. 

“Major Tallmadge, you startled me!” she exclaimed.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” He began, now feeling guilty for not making his presence known earlier. He should have known it would put her on the edge.

“No, don’t apologize. I didn’t realize anyone was listening.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting you at all,” he offered.

She resisted the urge to giggle at him, and instead smiled sympathetically. He had a way of looking like a lost puppy when he felt embarrassed, and she found it charming.

“Of course not. I am playing purely for my own entertainment. Do you play at all, Major?”

He laughed nervously.

“I would hardly call what I do playing, I am afraid.”

Now it was her turn to laugh.

“Oh my!” She expressed bemused, her smiled reached her sparkly eyes. “Have I finally found something at which you don’t excel, Major?” _She was teasing him_! He thought with raised eyebrows as he tried to contain the smile threatening to break.

Eleanor’s eyes lit with an idea. “Shall I teach you how to play then, Major?”

He loved the way she said his title—Major. It was sweet, but low and even a bit sensual. He wished she would say it again and again. Oh, the fantasies he would have about the way she said that one simple word.

Ben spluttered, unsure of what to say or do.

“I-I’m-I have a meeting with your father very soon-not sure I want to keep him waiting-“

Eleanor waved her hand dismissively.

“He’s running a bit late today. Mr. Sackett went in not ten minutes ago, so I don’t expect them to be done anytime soon.”

Ben desperately wanted to. He wanted any excuse to be close to Eleanor, but he didn’t want to seem too eager, and he definitely didn’t to embarrass himself in front of her.

She looked so elegant sitting at the piano, and her general demeanor was warm and welcoming. He knew he would regret saying no, so he finally consented. She moved over, gesturing for him to sit next to her on the bench.  

Sitting in such close proximity allowed him to look at her more closely. He’d observed her beauty on occasion before, but never this close. It wasn’t until now that he saw the freckles that spread faintly across her nose and cheeks, and that her eyes were almost a periwinkle blue. What struck him was the scent of her perfume. It was light and sweet, and he had enjoyed its lingering scent on his jacket after the incident. He thought it was honeysuckle, which made sense for her. She was rather petite and delicate, but her presence was not so.

However, he sensed a weariness about her that wasn’t usually there. Though her eyes hadn’t lost their sparkle, exhaustion showed through them. Faint dark circles were visible under her eyes, and he guessed she hadn’t been sleeping well since the incident. Even her voice sounded fatigued, and when she spoke, it was as if she was putting all her energy into sounding pleasant and happy.

As she placed her hands in her lap, he noticed the bruises around her wrists. They still were not gone, but they’d faded some. The sight still made him angry, and he wished he’d beaten the men senseless. Perhaps the anger showed on his face. Her sweet voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

“Major,” she said gently, a look of concern on her face.  “Show me what you can play,” she said, leaning away to give him more room. He gave a weak smile.

“Prepare to be underwhelmed,” he said dryly. There was a glimmer in his eye, and she lightly swatted his arm as if to dismiss his comment.

He began to play a little drinking song, and she was surprised.

Eleanor had expected far worse, but he was proving to be a finer player than she thought.

When he had finished his piece, he gently bowed his head in a playful manner. She applauded his performance nonetheless.

“That was not as bad as you were saying it would be!”

He raised one eyebrow teasingly. 

“Not _as_ bad?”

She gasped as a light pink blush warmed her complexion. He smirked at her expression.

“How cruel you are!” She playfully swatted his arm earning a full laughter from the younger man. “You know what I mean,” she said scolding him gently.

Ben smiled fondly at her. He’d never seen her blush before, and he didn’t expect to be the cause of it. Usually it was the opposite way round.

When she regained composure, she asked him to teach her what he had just played. He bore a bemused expression at her request.

“I thought you were supposed to teach me something more sophisticated,” he said with an edge of flirtation.

“Well, I changed my mind. I find your tune much more entertaining than something by Mozart or Clementi.” She said in a matter of fact way.

“Oh? It must be horrible to play Mozart all the time. I agree with you silly tunes are much more entertaining. ” he remarked, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

She huffed and coyly rolled her eyes.

The next few minutes were spent giggling and playing piano miserably, as each of them taught the other some silly tune.

Neither of them noticed Mr. Sackett standing at the door with a wide, mischievous grin on his face. He liked seeing the two of them together. It warmed his heart, and he was happy to see Ben so carefree. The major was usually frustrated or fired up about something. While that was an admirable quality, he appreciated the calmness that Eleanor brought out in him.

After a few moments, he decided to make his presence known. He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. Neither of them noticed this action, much to his amusement.

He coughed loudly, and Ben and Eleanor snapped out of their reverie. Their surprised expressions were priceless. The both of them looked confused, as if someone had just shaken them awake from a deep slumber.

“Major, Washington’s waiting,” said Mr. Sackett, still grinning.

Ben got up from the piano bench, albeit reluctantly.

“You’ll have to teach me how to play properly some other time,” he said, and he meant it.

Eleanor nodded gently.

“I look forward to that, Major.”

He bowed awkwardly before leaving for the meeting.

Mr. Sackett waited until he was out of earshot to make comment.

“You two seem to be getting on well,” he observed, poking at her in hopes of getting a good reaction.

She rolled her eyes at this, but a slight smile played in her rosy lips.

“Mr. Sackett, you’re beginning to sound like my mother.”

The older man raised his hands in mock defense.

“I am merely observing and making comments.” He chuckled before switching the conversation. “Your father tells me you’ve been sequestered here for too long. Do you feel like walking outside and getting some fresh air?”

She bit her bottom lip in thought, looking out of the window. The last time she had been out of the house was almost a week ago, when Ben had called on her and they walked in the woods. It seemed like ages ago that they’d done so, but she remembered every detail as if it had only happened an hour ago. Outside looked harmless enough, and no one was going to harass her if she were with Mr. Sackett. She agreed, forcing herself to smile.

\---------------------------------

Mr. Sackett ended up taking her to their little spy barn, or intelligence headquarters, as they referred to it. Technically, civilians were not supposed to see this side of the war, but he thought her an exception.

When the doors opened, her eyes widened in surprise. Machines and trinkets sprawled across the tables, and piles of papers tools sat in the corners. The tables looked to be work stations, and each station seemed to have a specific function. In the far corner, something very large and rather lumpy stood, covered by a sheet to remain hidden.  

Eleanor could imagine spies running in and out of here with intelligence, working tirelessly at the stations, and yelling to each other in code from across the room. It sounded most exciting, and she wished she could be a part of it. But at the moment, it   was rather empty.

She was too busy soaking in every detail to realize that Mr. Sackett was introducing her to someone, so it took her a few seconds to come back to reality. When she did, her gaze swept discreetly over the man whom Sackett was introducing.

He looked like a very jolly person—not so tall, but not so short, either.  His faded clothes, suntanned skin, and bearded face gave him the appearance of a sailor. His dark eyes twinkled with merriment and warmth. Even though he hadn’t said a word to her yet, Eleanor immediately decided she liked him.

“Eleanor, this is Caleb Brewster. He does a lot of running about for us,” Sackett explained. A wide, toothy grin spread across Caleb’s face as he looked at her. She smiled briefly nodded.

“Caleb, this is Miss Eleanor Washington.”

Caleb bobbed his head awkwardly, as if he were deciding whether to bow or not.

“Good t’ finally meet you, Miss,” he said. His voice had a jovial tone to it.

She cocked head in wonder.

“Finally?” she asked dubiously. Mr. Sackett gave him a sideways look as if to warn him against saying something stupid. The courier often blurt out what was on his mind without a second thought.

It seemed as if the grin on Caleb’s face grew even wider.

“Tallboy’s mentioned you in passing.”

Eleanor suspected that his words held more meaning, but she decided not to question that part. It made her heart flutter to think Ben talked about her.

“I am guessing Tallboy is….” She trailed off.

“Ben Tallmadge, yeah,” said Caleb. “Sorry ‘bout that. That’s my nickname for him.”

She raised her eyebrows in realization. During their walk, the Major had said that people didn’t get to choose their nicknames. Now she understood.

Caleb excused himself and continued working on something at the back of the barn. Mr. Sackett took the liberty of showing Eleanor the various machines and explaining their functions. She thought the letter duplicator the most interesting, and found herself wishing she had one of her own. Once the older man had shown her the way around, he dismissed himself to go finish some work.

She meandered around the barn, hands clasped behind her back, looking quite contemplative. Everything about this place was interesting to her. Even though it was just an old barn filled with inventions, it was peaceful to her somehow. It reeked of secrecy, and it pleased her to know she was one of the select few people allowed in here.

“So, Miss Eleanor, how long’ve you been in New Jersey?” came Caleb’s voice. He stood at a workbench near the back of the barn. It looked like he was cleaning weapons or something.

“Oh goodness, it feels like forever,” she answered. “I think about four weeks now. What about you?”

Caleb chuckled.

“I go wherever Ben or Mr. Sackett tells me t’ go. I’m not here permanently.”

“Because you’re a spy?” she asked. She hated how childlike that question sounded, but she really did want to know more about intelligence and spy activities.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Sorta. I jus’ deliver the messages. I’d tell ya ‘bout it, but secret stuff, ya know.”

Caleb approved of Ben’s choice so far, but he wasn’t sure why Mr. Sackett was allowing her in their headquarters. This was supposed to be off limits to civilians and even most soldiers, so he tried to steer clear of the topic of his work.

She nodded in understanding. Of course, she desperately wanted to know the intricacies behind spy networks, but she got the feeling that Caleb wasn’t going to tell her anything, At least he was a good spy for not revealing secrets.

Both men were quiet as they focused on their work, and Eleanor sat down at the chair across from Mr. Sackett’s desk. She wished she had brought something to read. When she voiced her thoughts, the older man gave her a sympathetic look.

As soon, as the words _book_ and _reading_ met Caleb’s ears, he looked up from his work. This was his opportunity to introduce her to Frida. He had a feeling they would get on well—the both of them seemed to be fiery women, and Ben had told him that Eleanor wasn’t so fond of some of the women in the camp.

“If ya like readin’, I know a nice bookshop in town,” he offered.

Eleanor cocked her head, indicating a willingness to listen.

“Is it the one across from the fabric shop?”

Caleb’s eyes brightened.

“Yeah, that one. Some lovely Norwegian folks own it.”

She snorted dismissively. Her mother would have disapproved, but she didn’t feel like this barn required proper decorum.

“I would hardly call them lovely,” she said dryly.

He looked at her in surprise, and his mind was whirling with questions. Frida had a tendency to be very judgmental. Occasionally, her assumptions didn’t match up, and it got her into trouble.

When Caleb asked what happened, Eleanor was more than happy to tell her story. She explained how she asked for a book in the shop, and the pretty and slightly intimidating Norwegian girl wouldn’t give it to her based on her appearance.

“Now, I can’t fault her for thinking I looked like a stupid little thing. I myself thought so. But still—it was rude! Even if people don’t like me, they’ve kept it to themselves!”

Caleb thought he was going to crack a rib from holding in his laughter. He couldn’t dare reveal his true thoughts yet. Luckily, she was still going on about the incident, and didn’t notice the grin he was trying to hide.

“She was very intimidating, and I must say, but she had such pretty hair…”

She paused, and he raised his eyebrows, still holding back laughter. When he made no reply, she continued.

“I’ve always wanted fair hair. And she really was pretty, but that still doesn’t excuse her rudeness.”

Caleb cleared his throat.

“What exactly did she say t’ ya?”

Eleanor sat up straight, fixed her hair, and imitated the girl with her best Scandinavian accent, which was actually quite poor.

“I know all about girls like you, who come in here and buy lofty books so they can impress soldiers.”

She then switched to her normal accent, and Caleb had resorted to coughing to cover up his laughter.

“I didn’t even say anything to her. I simply walked into the shop, and she came over and started insulting me! What sort of person does something like that?”

Mr. Sackett was thoroughly enjoying the scene before him. Usually, Eleanor was a good reader of people, but right now, she was utterly clueless. He’d met Frida once before, and Eleanor’s impression of her wasn’t too far off. Still, she had no idea of the connection between Caleb and Frida.

He expected that introduction to be entertaining, and that was putting it mildly.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! This is just to say that posting will probably slow down a bit after this chapter, as I've got friends coming into London and then I go back home for my last year of university. I will continue this story; I promise! xo

Eleanor lounged lazily on one of the sofas in the drawing room. One arm covered her eyes, while the other draped across her stomach. Her foot swung idly just a few inches above the floor.

Usually Martha would have scolded her daughter about proper sitting posture, but she decided to take pity on her child. She had been too harsh toward Eleanor lately; she supposed this could let it slide this time. Their only obligation was to meet with the other ladies and finish the care baskets they had started, but that wasn’t until the evening.

The next day, however, was going to be more of a hassle. Martha was hosting a dinner party for some of the townsfolk. She would oversee all the preparation and Ella wouldassist her. In addition, she wanted Ella to look and act her absolute best in front of their company.

Ella huffed. Martha looked from her writing.

“Something to say, dear?”

“I just don’t see why we need another party. Didn’t we just have one?”

“Well, we did have a ball a few weeks ago, but this is a dinner party, dear, it’s a completely different thing,” her mother admonished her. “And this time is for the citizens of Morristown. It will not be nearly as large or as formal as a ball, of course. Your father did in fact invite a few officers, but on more social terms rather than military terms.”

She paused as Ella chewed her bottom lip nervously and stared at the carpet.

“Ella? Will you be alright around the soldiers?”

Her daughter looked out the window, shaking her head. Her hands were clasped tightly, and her fingertips were turning white.

“What choice do I have? I live in a military camp,” she said bitterly.

Martha looked on her daughter with compassion.

“Don’t worry, my love. The ones at the dinner won’t be low scoundrels. They are gentlemen; I promise you.”

Ella still wasn’t convinced, and her face contorted into a grimace.

“After all, they find you a delight. You are a light in this revolution, my little treasure.”

Ella sighed in exasperation and sat up, leaning against the arm of the sofa. It hurt that her own mother so easily brushed away the entire incident.

“They don’t really find me a delight, mother. They’re just saying that to please Father.”

Martha put down her pen and clasped her hands in front of her on the desk. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes were slightly narrowed. This gave her a very businesslike appearance, and it usually meant she was listening intently, or was about to say something important.

“Ella, on the night of the ball, all the officers with whom I spoke could not stop talking about what a delightful creature you are— a lovely dancing partner, a very engaging young lady to talk to and exquisitely pretty. Your presence is a comfort to them, my dear. You are the future they are risking their lives for, and for that you must always look your best,” Martha said pointedly. “I know things took an unexpected turn, but you have to be strong and at least look the part on the outside. No matter where you go in camp, all eyes are on you.”

Ella took a deep breath and her mother looked pityingly at her. She rose from her place at the desk and sat next to her daughter on the sofa.

“I know I ask much of you, my jewel. However, hard times lie ahead of us, your father especially. This revolution is bigger than our personal sorrows.” She gently combed her child’s hair with her fingers. “I do not wish to act like nothing happened, but we must look forward and not dwell over what happened – most importantly on what did **_not_** happen.”

Ella pretended to suddenly be fascinated with the pattern on her gown as she traced one of the embroidered flowers.

“That’s a bit dramatic. You’re making me sound like a saint, and I don’t think everyone is as reverent as you say they are.”She gave her mother a weak smile “But you are right, mother….it’s just hard to forget it all.”

She hadn’t told her mother about the nightmares. She knew she would tell her father, and she didn’t want to burden the poor man any more. Shaking off those horrid thoughts, she plastered on a weak smile.

 “That still doesn’t make me want to attend the dinner party,” she said, cheering herself up. “But…will Major Tallmadge be present?”

Martha saw how the mention of his name brought a faint smile to her lips. She fought a smile of her own.

“No. Only the highest ranking officers were invited.”

“That’s a shame,” she muttered, picking at some of the loose threads on her gown. She had hoped to see him again. That would have at least made the evening a bit more bearable.

“So _do_ you fancy him?” Martha asked mischievously.

Ella shot her a sideways glare, but it soon cracked into a smile. A light blush spread over her cheeks at the teasing. Her mother laughed out loud when she saw it.

“I knew you did! The morning after the ball I asked you about him, and you became defensive. And when you walked in with him after that night, you looked absolutely smitten.”

The blush spread across her throat and collarbone.

“He did rescue me, mother.”

Martha dramatically placed the back of her hand on her forehead with a flourish.

“Oh, isn’t he so dashing!”

Ella pushed her mother away, who only kept laughing.

“I think he fancies you, as well,” she remarked when she finished laughing. Ella looked up at her questioningly. “The way he looked at you before he left was proof enough—as if you were the ocean and he was desperate to drown.”

“Mother! You’re making that up.”

Her mother smiled. “I am not! I’ll make a point of it next time we see him.”

Ella was embarrassed that her mother knew, but at least she was on her side.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The entire next day was spent in preparation for the dinner. Ella thought it sort of ridiculous, but she decided to have some sympathy for her mother. After all, she was only trying to fulfill the expectations of a commander’s wife.

When evening fell, Ella was actually happy to change from her grubby cotton gown into something a little more elegant.

The gown she’d chosen was a cream colored, closed front _robe a l’anglaise_ with a contrasting light blue petticoat. A single light blue bow graced the middle of her neckline, which was cut lower than she was accustomed.

Her auburn locks were not piled on top of her head, as they had been at the ball, but rather elegantly swept up. A few small loose curls hung about her face for visual appeal, and she wore small, dangling crystal earrings.

Her satin Louis heels were the same color as the dress, and embroidered with small blue and green flowers.

Martha looked equally as sophisticated in a dark green _robe a l’anglaise_ with a contrasting navy blue petticoat.

When the both of them were ready, the mother looked at her daughter affectionately.

“Let us go greet our guests,” she said in a warm, graceful manner.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mr. Sackett watched the scene before him in amusement. Lady Washington had been gracious in inviting him to this dinner party. It was mostly prominent townsfolk in attendance, and he knew she was trying to show them that the Continental Army wasn’t made of farmers with pitchforks. A few officers were present as well, and he guessed that was George’s doing.

Presently, he sat in the corner of the drawing room, content to people watch. It was a rather small gathering. Most of the ladies were sitting on the sofas gossiping, while the men stood around them or in other small groups.

Eleanor was the center of attention, as usual. Quite honestly, he felt a little sorry for her. He knew she didn’t much care for parties – even more so now – and that she found them rather silly during wartime. She was doing a marvelous job of masking her discontent, as she laughed and made pleasant conversation with the two men before her. He didn’t recognize either of them, so he guessed that they were from town. Both of them were rather gangly, sniveling lads, and neither of them stood a chance against the Major.

Martha and George were conversing with a in a small group across the room. He watched as the commander looked fondly at his wife. Though much more reserved than she, it was obvious that the love he had for his family was fierce indeed.

General Arnold kept looking over at Eleanor longingly. Mr. Sackett could tell he was only half paying attention to what was being said to him. The lady in question was always polite to him, and carried on pleasant conversation, but he knew that she was not at all romantically interested in the General. It was exactly the opposite for the General himself. He absorbed every bit of attention she paid him. Even though Miss Eleanor was rather petite, her presence certainly did not have a petite effect on those around her. Instead, she drew people in with her charm and kindness, and she radiated peacefulness.

Perhaps that was what made Major Tallmadge and General Arnold act so differently around her: she brought out their best.

The General excused himself from the conversation, and headed toward Miss Eleanor, who he could tell was getting rather uncomfortable with the two men talking to her. Her smile may have looked genuinebut Mr. Sackett was a good reader of people; he could tell it was all but genuine. Now, she was laughing rather nervously, and her eyes darted around the room, as if looking for any excuse to leave.

She looked a tinge more relieved when Arnold appeared at her side. He couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but Miss Eleanor found it amusing, as she genuinely laughed.

His observation was interrupted when Lady Washington joined him. For a few moments, she said nothing, keeping her gaze trained on her daughter and the men around her.

“Mr. Sackett, I would love to hear about the intelligence you’ve gathered here tonight,” she said teasingly.

He chuckled faintly.

“Oh, you’ll hear it soon enough.”  

The lady flashed a dazzling smile. Miss Eleanor had most definitely gotten her charm from her mother.

At that moment, dinner was announced, and the hostess began to pair everyone up for the procession into the dining room.

Miss Eleanor was paired with General Arnold, much to the dismay of the two local lads. He would have much to tease Ben about later.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mr. Sackett had been fortunate enough to be seated near the Washington’s. He didn’t feel much at ease at parties or around people he didn’t know very well, so it was comforting that his place was right next to Lady Washington herself. Across from him was General Arnold, and Miss Eleanor was seated between him and her father at the head of the table. The only other people he recognized were General Scott and his wife and eldest daughter, but that was it. Every other face was completely new.

Occasionally, he would offer something in conversation, but he preferred to watch and listen.

“I always find it incredible that you ladies have the patience to be so accomplished,” Arnold said to Miss Eleanor rather playfully.

“Whatever do you mean, General?” she asked.

“Well, you…you all play an instrument or two, sew samplers, sing, and draw and dance, and learn to speak other languages. It sounds like a lot of work to become a proper lady.”

Miss Eleanor laughed and shook her head.

“Oh, you’ve only scratched the surface. In addition to learning all those skills, a lady must know how to properly serve tea, greet guests at social functions, write elegant letters, and the list only goes on. Why, there’s even a proper way to breathe and carry oneself. All the details are enough to make one’s head spin.”

“Eleanor, how you exaggerate!” cried her mother. Mr. Sackett smiled with amusement, but he detected an edge of warning in her voice. It seemed as if she sensed that her daughter was going to say something too bold and make a fool of herself, so she was trying to curtail the conversation.

“Do I, mother? You can’t deny anything I’ve said.”

Lady Washington looked at her husband for support, but he was staying out of the discussion. _Smart man,_ thought Mr. Sackett.

“Then based on everything you’ve told me, would you consider yourself an accomplished woman?”

Mr. Sackett almost spit out his wine at the boldness of the question, and Lady Washington’s eyes widened in surprise. The both of them wondered how Miss Eleanor would respond to such audacity.

“Heavens, no. I don’t think any woman is truly accomplished, no matter how much she has studied.”

The general looked down at her in mock disbelief.

“You’re very harsh upon the female sex, Miss Eleanor.”

She laughed again.

“Not harsh, General, but I’ve certainly never seen such a woman. I think she’d be a fearsome thing to behold.”

Mr. Sackett heard Lady Washington sigh in relief. She’d been afraid that her daughter would make a scene and embarrass them, but thankfully she was remembering her place tonight. Both the General and the Commander chuckled at her response. However, the young lady was not quite finished speaking.

“I think it would be much easier to become a gentleman. You don’t have to worry about near as many things as us ladies do.”

The smile quickly disappeared from Lady Washington’s face. Instead, her lips were pursed and her eyes were wide. She was trying to send a nonverbal message to get her daughter to stop talking before she made a complete fool of herself.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Miss Eleanor. We men still have to look somewhat fashionable, and be reasonably educated. How else would we make our way in the world?”

“That’s the point, General. You men are able to make your own ways in the world—you have the freedom to go out and build a life for yourself. We poor women cannot do that without being shunned by society. We must stay at home and do what you men call delicate work.”

The Commander and his wife watched their daughter intently, waiting to jump into the conversation in case she was getting too free-spirited. Her words had attracted the attention of at least half the table now.

Arnold looked down at her curiously.

“Isn’t that the natural place of women? At the home?”

A flash of anger crossed Miss Eleanor’s eyes as her nostrils flared ever slightly. General Arnold had struck a nerve, and if someone didn’t intervene soon, she would destroy him with her words.

Lady Washington was that intervention. Before her daughter could retort, she spoke up.

 “General Arnold, have you heard about the play debuting in town?”

Their brief exchange offered Miss Eleanor a chance to cool her temper. She didn’t speak until she heard the general mention her name.

“I was actually going to see if Miss Eleanor would care to accompany me.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide in question.

“Accompany you where? So sorry; my mind was elsewhere for a moment.”

He smiled gently.

“There is a showing of a Shakespeare play in town next week. I don’t remember what it is— _A Midsummer Night’s Dream,_ maybe?”

Mr. Sackett confirmed that it was indeed _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_.

“I was wondering if perhaps you would like to accompany me to it. I know some of the soldiers will be going, but it isn’t strictly for them. Other young ladies will be present, as well, so you wouldn’t be the only rose amongst all the thorns.”

Miss Eleanor glanced sideways at her mother for a moment, gauging her reaction. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to accept or decline. Lady Washington discreetly let her know to accept.

Mr. Sackett was going to tease Major Tallmadge about this, but not too much. It would not be wise to throw him completely throw him off.

“I...would be delighted,” Eleanor said gracefully,but with a tinge of hesitation.

“I look forward to it,” he mused.

A small smile tugged at the corner of the Commander’s mouth. He thought highly of Arnold, and Mr. Sackett now could see that Washington clearly had a favorite suitor. He wondered if he even considered young Tallmadge. He could not be that blind…. Or could he?

It seemed very unfair that anyone should steer her toward a man as if she were a prize to be won, but such was the nature of the world. Miss Eleanor certainly hadn’t been wrong about the place of women in it.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After the dinner, the ladies left for the drawing room while the men stayed in the dining room.

Quite honestly, Mr. Sackett wished they could skip this part of social convention, but etiquette was inescapable. He didn’t care to hear about the officer’s mistresses or listen to them groan about taxes. He also didn’t care to hear battle stories. They all lived a camp – they’d probably heard the stories multiple times already, for God’s sakes.

The ladies were probably tittering about suitors or new French fashions (something he knew Miss Eleanor didn’t care for), but it sounded much more interesting at the moment.

He heard General Arnold mention her name to the Commander.

“Miss Eleanor looks very well tonight, sir,” he said. “I suppose she recovered quite well from her unpleasant experience.”  Well, Sackett thought, Arnold was thick but at least he had some shred of sensibility in his head.

He sipped his brandy, waiting anxiously to hear Washington’s reply.

“She does, doesn’t she? Her looks and mannerisms come from her mother, thankfully.” The Commander lightly remarked but made no note about her recovery. _Intriguing_ he thought, he should relay the information to the Major.

“She must constantly have suitors after her over the years.”

Washington smiled faintly.

“Oh yes. Ever since, she was fifteen. Always the belle of the ball, my Eleanor.” He said proudly.

“And she’s turned all of them down?”

The Commander cleared his throat before answering, changing subjects completely.

“She seems to be fond of you, Arnold.”

Mr. Sackett wanted to hit Washington across the face with the serving spoon. What the hell was he doing? Surely, he would not try to orchestrate a romantic relationship between his officer and his only daughter. Matchmaking seemed rather beneath him. But he did not lose the fact that Washington changed subject completely.

A slight smile flashed across Arnold’s face.

“You think so?”

Washington said nothing and only smiled, rising from his seat.

It was time to join the ladies in the drawing room.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After a while, it was suggested that Miss Eleanor and some of the other ladies entertain the guests with their musical skills. She gently refused at first, as was natural, but Mr. Sackett saw her mother shoot her a firm look, ordering her to play.

The chairs and sofas were rearranged as if they were at a concert, and the piano was turned so that the small audience could see the player.

As daughter of the hostess, Miss Eleanor went first. Arnold stood next to her at the piano, looking ready to take his page-turning duties very seriously.

“I must confess, I’m a bit out of practice. If your ears begin to bleed, I apologize.”

Her comment earned lighthearted laughter from the rest of the party.

After a few moments, she began to play. Her skills at the instrument were extraordinary, and she played with such grace and elegance. Rarely had Mr. Sackett heard someone play with such feeling. He’d sat through some passable performances in the past, and some downright terrible ones where the poor lady was forced to learn the instrument in order to be accomplished, but the gift did not come naturally.

This time, however, she was more restrained and refined. He’d heard her play before when he walked in on her and Major Tallmadge plunking around before. She’d been livelier and happier. Tonight, she was playing the part of a proper, accomplished lady, entertaining her guests as a good hostess should.

Arnold turned the page for her, and she briefly smiled at him in thanks.

“What intelligence have you gathered on this matter?” whispered Lady Washington, nodding toward Arnold and her daughter. The teasing tone was gone from her voice, and her expression looked rather grave.

“I’m afraid it isn’t positive, my lady.”

“Oh dear. I thought I had a glimmer of hope.”

“I’m not sure what action your husband will take, but he seems to favor this candidate.”

Lady Washington looked at her daughter with a grave fondness.

“I myself do not think it is a good match. I favor a different candidate for her. My husband says he hopes marriage will tame her. But I do not think she is wild, is she?”

Mr. Sackett knew she was referring to Major Tallmadge as the candidate, but he did not comment. Instead, he answered the second part of her question.

“I would not describe her as so. She’s passionate—sound of mind and of heart.”

Lady Washington smiled fondly.

“I feel so sorry for her. I wish I could bring her happiness somehow.”

Mr. Sackett twiddled his thumbs. He desperately wanted to know about the other suitors that the Commander had clearly avoided talking about.

“All the young men here follow her around like lost puppies.”

The lady was glad for a change of subject.

“Most certainly. Excellent comparison, Mr. Sackett.”

He smiled, but that wasn’t the information he needed. He’d have to be blunt.

“Forgive me for my forwardness, my lady, but has Miss Eleanor ever had other suitors? The subject came up after dinner, and the Commander was reluctant to divulge.”

She nodded in understanding.

“Yes, she has. And they were very close. We don’t talk about it often, as their courtship came to a rather distressing end. They were to be married, Mr. Sackett. But I would prefer that you keep this information between us.”

A thousand thoughts whirled through his mind. A distressing end could mean many different things. Cheating? Illness? Death? He hoped it wasn’t the last.

He nodded, promising to keep this information secret. Perhaps Miss Eleanor would tell Tallmadge when the time was right.

They sat in silence for a few moments. The song was coming to a close.

Mr. Sackett leaned over to the lady again.

“As to her happiness, give it time. Perhaps your candidate can do something about that.”

Martha smiled her eyes a bit glassy. She dabbed at them with her handkerchief.

“I dearly hope so,” she whispered.

Honestly, Mr. Sackett hoped so, too. In order for that to happen, the both of them would have to be better strategists than the Commander. And that was a hard task indeed.


	11. Chapter Ten

Eleanor wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. It was absolutely scorching out, and she wished she could be inside, lounging on the sofa in the drawing room while doing nothing.

But she could not. That would make her look insensitive and rude, and she had to be the example of the camp.

Right now, she was doing laundry with the other ladies. Ella marveled at how the washing never seemed to end and she wondered how they could dirty their uniforms so quickly out of the battlefield.

Nevertheless, she was in a cheerful mood today. Her mother seemed satisfied with the way that Ella had carried herself at the dinner party the night before, so she didn’t pester her about proper manners or suitors.

The ladies were gossiping as usual, but she didn’t mind so much. It was a welcome distraction from her less-than-positive thoughts lately. Even though the ‘incident’ – as she’d taken to calling it—had happened nearly a month ago, it still lingered in the back of her mind. She’d worked up the confidence to walk around camp alone, but never at night. If she were out at night, she was always with a group.

The sound of her mother’s voice calling her name brought her out of her momentary reverie.

“Ella, darling, are you listening? Mrs. Miller just asked your opinion about the play later this week.” A sly smile crept across her mother’s face, telling her that the conversation wasn’t merely about the play.

Ella would have liked to launch into an academic explanation of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream,_ but she knew her mother would scold her. Besides, the women weren’t interested in the play at all. She would have to play along with their games this afternoon.  

“Oh, yes. I’m looking forward to it,” she said simply, hanging up another shirt.

One of the ladies around her mother’s age tsked, pointing out Ella’s complexion.

“Oh, look at the poor thing! She can’t wait for it—she’s blushing!” This comment was met with a chorus of giggles.

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes or bang her head on the nearby tree.

“Well, if you call the heat wave that affects my pale complexion a blush, then I believe it is.” Ella answered sweetly enough that all, except her mother, could not detect the satirical tone underneath her speech. She even gave them an innocent smile.

The same lady shook her head amused.  “Isn’t it sweet how she makes excuses, ladies?” She gave a hearty laugh. 

One of the younger ladies, perhaps just a bit older than Ella, spoke up.

“Who’s escorting you?” This comment was immediately chided by another woman, presumably her mother.

“Why!” the same older lady pressed. “General Arnold, of course!” Looking at Lady Washington’s face the lady saw her mistake. “Oh! Was it a secret?” She feigned an apology.

Ella laughed nervously. She was used to all kinds of attention and being the center of gossip was no novelty to Eleanor Washington; but the ladies were embarrassing her and making her feel uncomfortable. Discussing such things always lead to social _faux pas_ and Ella hated being caught up in such compromising talk. If she denied, it would lead to even more gossip.

“Yes, I’ll be attending the play with General Arnold,” she offered, not looking up when she folded one of the dry shirts.

The room boomed enthusiastic talk  at this particular piece of news.

“He is a very handsome man!”  Mrs. Miller exclaimed and Ella looked at her mother; the pair silently laughed at the older woman’s silliness.

The distraction was not enough because Ella’s discomfort was growing by the second. The ladies were persistent in sharing their opinions of the gentleman in discussion.

“He’s not bad looking.” This comment made several of the other girls giggle foolishly. Ella offered no reaction to their conversation.

“He’s probably the handsomest bachelor at camp!” Several ladies nodded in agreement. “How serious you are, child! Men are not interested in girls with such solemn dispositions.”

Ella felt her mother’s hand over her hand and she knew she had to smile and offer no comment. Therefore, she did as told.

 “Do you fancy him?” Mrs. Miller asked a twinkle in her eye.

“Mrs. Miller!” Martha chided and Ella sighed, relived. “General Arnold is a friend of the family and asked my daughter to a play; nothing more. That is an inappropriate question, don’t you think?” She said with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Again, Mrs. Miller simpered. “Lady Washington, I was just wondering, because you see, General Arnold seems to think highly of Eleanor and of their connection. I heard him talking with the other officers about it.” She pointed with a victorious gleam, looking around the room for the other ladies reactions of such hot piece of gossip.

This news made Ella ill at ease. She’d always suspected that Arnold had deeper feelings for her than he’d let on, but she’d held on to a glimmer of hope that he would come to his senses and stop pursuing her. Apparently it was quite the opposite.

Martha Washington did not like the sound of this (not to mention one of the ladies in camp walked around listening to other peoples conversations. She made a mental note to do something about it later. Such behavior would not be acceptable). Perhaps she’d been wrong in encouraging Eleanor to accept his invite, but then again, it had been fairly sudden. Ella couldn’t have told him ‘no’ at the table in front of all the guests. She and Mr. Sackett would have to work especially hard to prevent anything from happening.

“Is anyone else going to the play?” asked Martha cheerily, taking the group’s focus away from her daughter. The topic of Ella and Arnold was easily forgotten as they gossiped about who was going with whom, and what they planned on wearing to such an event.

Martha gave Ella an apologetic look as she herded the women away like a hen would herd her chicks.

Ella sighed. She would have liked to say that she was able to work in peace, but the older lady’s comments danced through her head. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ben sat at the small desk in his tent, writing a letter to his father. It had been a while since they’d written to each other ~~,~~ and he felt bad about that. He had been very busy of late and hadn’t had the time to sit down and write a well-thought out letter. He wasn’t even sure where to start. The last time he’d seen his father was after the battle at Setauket the year before.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. What had happened in the span of a year? What was worth telling; what would be important to him?

His tent was quiet and Ben felt he could think better without all the noise from IHQ. These days Caleb and Mr. Sackett were always there, tinkering with something and making too much noise for his liking.

The heat of the day had passed, giving way to clouds and a light summer rain. It didn’t make it any cooler, but at least the sun wasn’t beating down anymore. For a while, inside his tent, the only sounds were the scratch of his pen on the paper and the light fall of rain. It was rather peaceful, and Ben wished it would stay like this for the rest of the day.

As he was finishing his letter, Caleb burst into his tent. This momentarily startled Ben and caused him to knock over the inkwell and screw up his signature.

He cursed as he cleaned up the mess. Thankfully the spilled ink hadn’t ruined the letter, but he still wasn’t happy about having to clean it up.

“Sorry, Tallboy. Hope I didn’t ruin yer love note,” he said good-naturedly. The smile on the smuggler’s face fell when the soldier didn’t return the humor.

“It wasn’t a love note,” Ben said gruffly, folding the letter and stamping it as best he could. “It’s a letter to my father.”

Caleb’s eyes widened.

“Been a while since you’ve talked t’ him, ay?”

Ben nodded.

“What did you come barreling in here for?”

Caleb sat next to the checker board, trying to play against himself.

“Mr. Sackett said he had some interesting news for you, and I wanted to be here when he delivered it.”

Ben wrinkled his brow in confusion as he sealed the letter. This whole circumstance seemed rather odd to him.

In a few moments, Mr. Sackett arrived. He took a seat across from Caleb at the checkerboard.

“Mr. Sackett, how was the dinner party last night?” he politely asked.

The old man smiled that wily smile.

“Are you asking because you genuinely want to know about the dinner party or because you want to hear about Miss Eleanor?”

Ben stuttered and fidgeted with the letter in his hands. While he was genuinely interested, he was always eager to listen about Miss Eleanor. Caleb chuckled at his friend’s antics. _He’s a goner_ , the smuggler thought to himself.

“Well, I’m not one for social gatherings. I went to this particular dinner because it’s rude to refuse an invitation from your Commander in Chief and his wife.”

Ben nodded. A reasonable claim, he thought.

“Anyway, Miss Eleanor was the center of all attention last night. She looked beautiful, as usual. You would have been speechless, Major, though you’re always speechless in her presence.”

Caleb outright snorted. Ben sent him a glare, but conceded. He wasn’t exactly wrong about that.

“General Arnold paid her quite a bit of attention. I found his interest in her very odd, but understandable. After all, she is a beautiful young lady with a handsome dowry to go with it. She is indeed a treasure.” Mr. Sackett paused to look at the Major’s jaw tense. “He did not leave her side for almost the entire evening, but—that’s not the most interesting part.”

A sinking feeling hit Ben’s stomach. What Sackett thought interesting was probably not going to make him happy at all.

“When the ladies left for the drawing room, I was able to hear a good bit of conversation between Washington and Arnold. It seems Miss Eleanor has had quite a few suitors. Of course the Commander did not comment on it, but I found it particularly interesting since the lady is still unattached.” Ben’s heart was beating loud. Of course, she had suitors; it was silly of him to think not. She was bright as the sunshine. However, hope filled his chest. “Washington did point out she was fond of the General.” Once again Ben’s heart sank. Mr. Sackett was starting to pity the lad; he should not play with his emotions so. “I say bollocks to it all. She does not seem at all inclined toward him. Miss Eleanor is too smart for a buffoon such as Arnold.”

Mr. Sackett had decided to skip over that small bit where Martha had told him of her former suitor; the mysterious one to whom she’d been engaged. It was probably for the best if the Major found this piece of information through the lady in question.

Ben mulled over this information. Could Mr. Sackett’s assertion be right? Or could she really be fond of General Arnold? He’d noticed how comfortable they seemed around each other. But he liked to think that she was rather fond of him, not Arnold.

“A buffoon?” Caleb laughed heartily. “Ya got that right, Mr. Sackett!” The smuggler howled at the notion, but quickly sobered up with his eyes wide. “Ya don’t think Washington would try t’ push Miss Eleanor toward Arnold, do ya?”

Ben grimaced. He didn’t think the Commander in Chief would really concern himself with his daughter’s suitors, but then a prominent family like the Washington’s would be concerned for their child’s welfare and for an advantageous marriage alliance.

“That’s what it sounded like. She’s going with Arnold to the play in town at the end of the week.”

“She’s going with him? To see _A Midsummer Night’s Dream?_ ” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, though I think it would help you to know that she accepted his invitation with reluctance. She couldn’t very well deny him in front of her father’s guests.” Mr. Sackett provided.

Ben was disheartened. He’d been planning on asking her to accompany him. He’d finally worked up the courage to ask her next time they crossed paths, and now she was going with Arnold. Of course, he hadn’t told this to them. He didn’t need their pity.

“Sounds like yer goin’ to the play,” Caleb offered encouragingly.

Even if he didn’t get to escort her, he would go at least to catch a glimpse of her. God, he was desperate.

 

\- - - - - - - -  - - - - - - -

Ella had butterflies in her stomach— not because she was excited, but because she was nervous. She wasn’t exactly sure what to think of this whole venture. Martha looked at her with pity as she dressed herself for the occasion.

Her mother had told her not too look formal, but not to look like she’d just come from doing laundry, either. Some of the townspeople would be there, no doubt, and it would be snobbish of Ella to dress as if she were going to a ball.

She decided to wear something simpler. She wore the light blue striped _robe a la polonaise_ that she’d worn when Ben first called on her. It almost felt as if she were cheating on him by wearing this gown to an event with another man.

Thankfully, her mother didn’t tighten her stays quite as tight as they’d been before. She wanted to wear her kerchief again, as she felt uncomfortable revealing so much cleavage, but her mother denied that request, claiming that she didn’t want her to look prudish. Ella’s bosom certainly wasn’t small, but she wouldn’t consider herself voluptuous, either. She still didn’t like feeling so exposed, much less around General Arnold. She was dreading giving him wrong impressions – and God knew she did not want to caught in vulnerable position ever again.

Luckily she was not riding in the carriage alone with the General—they  would join a party of soldiers and their companions to the play. She was glad for that at least.

She looked outside the window of her small room and the wagon was outside. One of the ladies recognized her and waved excitedly at her. Ella forced a smile and waved back. General Arnold was among the group, and he waved as well.

She thought about what the ladies had said earlier in the week. He was handsome; no doubt, but not handsome enough to tempt her. She smiled as she conjured the image of the young dragoon’s face in her mind. She hoped to see him there; Major Tallmadge’s presence had the power of making everything much more bearable.

Before she left, she said a quick goodbye to her parents, who were enjoying a cup of tea in the study. She swore she saw a gleam in her father’s eye, but she couldn’t have been sure. At least her mother had thrown her a sympathetic look.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Miss Eleanor, you look very beautiful,” Arnold remarked with a smile on his face as she walked outside.

“You are too kind, General,” she said, a hint of nervous laughter in her voice.

“Please, there is no need to be so formal. You can call me Benedict, if you want.”

Ella froze and wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t want to give him any indication that she was interested, but she also didn’t want to upset him and hurt his feelings, thus ruining the night. She acquiesced, albeit uncomfortably. She did not give him permission to call her by her Christian name, as she was already feeling awkward enough.

“Well then…Benedict…” she said hesitantly, as if testing it out. He smiled gently as she said his name. “Shall we go?”

He looked around the group, as if to see if everyone was present.

“Not yet. I think we are still waiting on one more couple.”

The word “couple” made her heart sink into her stomach. It seemed as if General Arnold thought much more of their relationship. It was going to be a very interesting evening.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The play wasn’t all that extraordinary, but at least it provided some amusement for the soldiers and townsfolk. Ben had seen better while he was at Yale.

The audience was a sea of blue coats mixed with pretty patterned gowns as Ben craned his neck to look for Eleanor. It wasn’t difficult once he located Arnold. She wore the light blue, striped gown that she’d worn when he first called on her and she looked as radiant as that day. This time, however, she wore no kerchief – giving Ben a glimpse of her lovely figure. He felt a little bad for stealing glances like a thief in the night, but he could not help gazing at such beauty.

He noticed Arnold was doing the same thing and a tinge of jealousy spread through Ben. He could not blame the man entirely, for his companion was the loveliest lady in attendance.   Arnold was a great soldier – his skills on the battlefield were legendary and he respected the man in a military sense. However, he could not help but feel a little resentment for being beaten at accompanying Miss Eleanor to the play.  Perhaps he’d get the chance to talk with her afterward.

He turned his attention to the play, but every few minutes he would steal some glances. The room was rather hot and he could see Ella delicately fanning herself. In that moment, he wished he were the wind so that he could gently kiss her skin with each stroke of the fan. Her eyes were sparkling and attentive, and she laughed merrily at the play when appropriate.

At one moment, Arnold leaned over and whispered something to her. She giggled lightly and smiled coyly at him. Ben wished he’d been the one to make her laugh.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Eleanor was relieved when the play was over and they could finally start to head home. The play hadn’t been bad—she’d of course seen better, having spent time in London as a child—but that wasn’t what bothered her. Arnold had been a bit too friendly. He would find any excuse to touch her and get close to her, and she wasn’t sure how to fend off his advances. The giggling wasn’t meant to encourage him; rather, it was a nervous giggle because she wasn’t sure what to do.

Presently, she held his arm as they mingled with soldiers and townspeople. She wondered how it looked, and she knew she was probably starting all sorts of rumors without even trying.

Finally, Arnold excused himself to talk with another soldier. For a few moments, Eleanor had some time to herself. She’d tried to keep the name-calling to a minimum: she’d probably only referred to him as Benedict five times the whole evening, and she’d been quiet about it. She called him by his rank most of the time, and he gently corrected her each time. Other people would probably be shocked to hear her calling him by his Christian name, not his rank.

She noticed Arnold occasionally gesturing toward her to the group of soldiers he was with, and she stifled the urge to snort. He paraded her around like she was some prized horse, and it was dehumanizing. She sighed and rubbed her temples, wishing she was back at home for the first time since the ‘incident’ many weeks ago. Not just the house in Morristown, but at Mount Vernon in Virginia. She’d been sorely homesick as of late and wished nothing but the end of this drawn-out revolution so they could return home.

Suddenly, a calm voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Are you alright, Miss Eleanor?”

She looked up into the handsome face of Major Tallmadge. His blue eyes were filled with kindness and concern.

 “I am much better now, thank you Major.” She smiled at his concern. “Did I look that bad?” she asked, trying to bring some light to the conversation.

“No, no, that’s not what I was…” he tried to explain.Her smile grew.

“I was only teasing. I do appreciate your concern.”

Relief flooded him when she told him she was joking. He could never really tell with her, but it was so intriguing.

“You looked like you had a headache. I just wanted to check that you were truly alright. You seem to be without your companion for the evening.” He tried to say the last part without sounding too bitter.

Was it her or did the Major sound jealous? She had to contain her smile.  

“Oh, no I am fine.Just gathering my thoughts. What did you think of the play?” she asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

While he gave his response, she studied him briefly. He still wore his uniform, as he did most days. She never got tired of seeing him in it, as he cut a fine figure in his blue coat. Though, she often wondered how he would look in civilian clothes. Probably much the same, she thought. He was very handsome indeed.

“What was your opinion of the evening?” he asked, his blue eyes fixed on her.

 “Oh it was amusing enough. But apparently it is much more interesting to talk about who accompanied whom to the play,” she said, giving a wry smile.

Ben sighed and looked about the room.

“I think more people were here to be seen and heard rather than to see and hear a play,” he remarked. Ella concurred with his judgment.

“Tell me, which lucky young lady had the pleasure of accompanying you tonight?” she asked him flirtatiously.

“I’m actually here alone.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? I find that difficult to believe, Major.”

“Well, I was going to ask this one beautiful lady, but another man had more courage than I and beat me to it.”

Ella’s heart thudded in her ears. She had the feeling that he was talking about her, but she didn’t want to pry or press the issue any further. If it wasn’t her, that would be embarrassing.

“Her loss then. I am sure her companion is not as entertaining or as chivalrous as yourself, Major,” she commented, feeling a little bold with her flirtation.

General Arnold appeared at her side just then, interrupting the Major’s answer, announcing that their party was leaving.

Ella could barely repress her annoyance. How she wished to hear the Major’s response!

 “Ah, Major Tallmadge, good to see you here,” said the general. Eleanor was surprised at his civility. When they’d run into him on their walk, Arnold had been rather curt. She wondered what was going on. Maybe he’d been jealous of them then, but now that he was accompanying her, he was showing his more courteous side.

“Likewise, sir,” Ben said with a quick nod of his head.

“Did you enjoy the play?”

“Yes, very much. It was good to have some entertainment in town for a change.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said the General. Eleanor was still surprised at his lighthearted demeanor. This was so unlike him.

“Shall we go, Miss Eleanor?”  he asked, offering her his arm. She took it gracefully and nodded toward Ben.

“Until later, Major,” she said politely. She wished she could say more, but Arnold was whisking her away.

She was gone before Ben got to say a proper goodbye. He watched her retreating form through the window. She’d taken a carriage with another group of people, and it looked like great fun.

Eleanor felt bad about leaving in such a hurried manner, but she couldn’t object to Arnold’s wishes. She looked back for a moment, and smiled sweetly at Ben to let him know that she didn’t mean to be so formal.

The smile that he returned was absolutely precious, and she would treasure that look on his face for a very long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long; thanks for being patient! 
> 
> A couple people have asked me on Tumblr when the story will start to show Caleb/OC, and I just want to let you guys know it's happening soon, I promise! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! xoxox


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to apologize for posting later than usual. It's been a very busy couple of days, but I'm finally back in the states! There's certainly no place like home.   
> Anyway, I will try and resume the Friday posting schedule after this. And "Desperate Measures" is coming soon; I swear!

Martha sipped at her tea and gazed thoughtfully out the window. A full moon and glittering stars lit the blackness of the night sky, and she knew Eleanor would think it perfectly romantic. That is, if she were with the right person.

She wondered how her daughter was faring at the play. It hadn’t been Martha’s intention to shove her daughter into this entire mess, but she hadn’t a choice. When she told her daughter she was going to accompany her father from camp to camp, Ella had insisted on going with her.

Martha herself had been a little leery to let her come. She didn’t like the idea of placing her daughter in a camp full of rowdy soldiers, but George had insisted it would be safer than leaving her at Mount Vernon with the housekeeper. She also didn’t want her to be reminded of Tom.

She sighed and sipped her tea again, wondering what could have been if Ella had married Tom. Though she had only been sixteen at the time, having just been released into society, the match was absolutely perfect. Tom had been a proper gentleman, and he’d been so kind and caring with her daughter. His capture and death had been most unfortunate, and she felt so sorry to see a loved one ripped away from precious little Ella once again.

“Is that your third cup of tea, my dear?” George calmly asked, appearing at his wife’s side and placing a hand on the small of her back.

She smiled weakly, continuing to look out the window.

“You know it takes me more than two cups of tea to calm myself when anxious.”

“For what are you anxious?”

Martha sighed, turning away from the window and seating herself on the sofa in the small sitting room.

“I fear we are asking too much of Eleanor. She’s constantly afraid, you know.”

George looked questioningly at his wife.

“What do you mean? Two of the men who threatened her are dead, and one is far away from here. She does not have to worry anymore.”

She placed her teacup on the table and slouched on the sofa, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

“That isn’t it. Ella’s confidence has slowly built up since the incident, but surely you can’t expect her to feel completely comfortable around the soldiers all the time.”

George didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what his daughter was feeling, and he thought he never would. The world of women was much different than the world of men, and he certainly couldn’t claim to be an expert in the former.

“It seems as though she is unaffected. Her manners and her disposition do not betray discomfort.”

Martha scoffed and rolled her eyes. _Men._

“She does that for you, George. She understands that her behavior reflects back on you, and that your image is important in this war. She will do anything you ask in order to protect and esteem you. That’s why she didn’t refuse General Arnold when he asked her to the play.”

He looked up suddenly, his brow furrowed.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about this entire evening?”

“Yes!” she cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I’m hoping she was able to fend off his advances.”

“Why would you wish for that?” An edge of irritation crept into his voice.

“She does not care for him at all!”

“Perhaps not now, but she can learn to. You cannot deny that they are a good match.”

The vein in Martha’s neck looked as if it would burst as she clenched her jaw.

“I can deny it! George, you cannot be serious! Why in heaven’s name would you give our only daughter to that brash, petulant bear?”

George bristled at his wife’s words.

“Arnold may occasionally be brash and petulant, but he is stout of heart and a good soldier. He would protect Ella with his life.”

“No, he would protect Ella’s fortune with his life. Aren’t you always saying he complains about how he believes he deserves more?”

“He’s lead a difficult life, and he hasn’t been blessed the way that Ella has.”

Martha huffed and buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t believe the words that were coming from her husband’s mouth.

"Oh! So your daughter is the way you found to compensate Arnold? She is just an object you can give away to appease him? I cannot believe you have become this, George!" Martha exclaimed frustrated at her husband. "If you think a man like Arnold can make her happy, I don't think you know our daughter at all!"

George was astonished with his wife outburst. It was so unlike her.

Martha took a long breath. “I will speak of this no more,” she said, putting on a firm expression. She took her teacup and stood up, her demeanor suddenly very strict. Before she left the room, she turned back and looked at her husband. “I only ask that you consider your daughter’s happiness. She’s had sorrows enough for someone so young.”

George mulled over his wife’s words in his mind. Women were difficult creatures, indeed. Eleanor hadn’t been wrong at the dinner party—the more he thought about it, the more he realized that women did indeed seem to have more expectations placed on them than men did.

He shook his head in dismay as he trudged upstairs to bed. He had a war to fight and a family to look after. Though he was generally a good manager of his time, he was finding it more difficult to balance this whole situation. Both the cause and his daughter were precious to him, and tonight's conversations had given much to think about.

\------------------------------

Eleanor was glad when their party was almost to headquarters, where they’d be dropped off and go their separate ways. Talking with Major Tallmadge for those brief moments was the only part of the evening she’d truly enjoyed, and she wished she’d arrived with him instead. He seemed to be much more of a gentleman than her current companion.

Arnold currently had his arm behind her, resting on the edge of the wagon, but she could see his fingers curling, resisting the urge to drape it around her waist and pull her close to him.

When the wagon hit a particularly large bump in the road, Arnold’s arm wrapped instinctively around her waist, keeping her from falling out of her seat. While it was helpful, she didn’t see the need for him to keep his arm there for the rest of the ride home.

He smiled down fondly at her in that moment, and she laughed nervously, blushing. This whole situation was making her embarrassed and uncomfortable. A couple of the young ladies gave her mischievous looks, wriggling their eyebrows at the action.

The entire situation made her very uncomfortable, and relief crashed over her like a wave when they drove up to headquarters.

Arnold helped her out of the carriage, as a gentleman should. The group exchanged their goodbyes before heading their separate ways, or at least mostly separate. Some of the couples stayed together, giggling as they went off.

He waited until they were out of earshot to speak to her again.

“I hope you enjoyed the evening, Miss Eleanor,” he said, looking down expectantly at her, his arms clasped behind his back.

She forced a smile and looked up at him, wanting desperately to go inside.

“It was lovely, General.”

“Miss Eleanor, I’ve told you to call me Benedict.”

“I know. It’s just…I’m so used to calling you by your rank. It’s hard to break habits, I suppose.”

“Well, I hope you can break that habit soon,” he said, a crooked grin on his face. Color bloomed in her cheeks. She hoped the dark of the night would hide it, but apparently it didn’t, as he laughed at the sight.

“Will I see you at the independence day party next week? Your father’s promised quite the celebration. And as we are in a military camp, I don’t expect there will be many pretty girls about. You’d be a welcome sight,” he remarked.

Eleanor’s eyes widened. She had to restrain herself from scoffing. Did this man’s brazenness know no bounds?

 “I-I believe I will... I do have to make an appearance with mother and father."

Arnold bowed his head.

"I see. Then, I look forward in seeing you again." he said, stepping forward and taking her hand. Her breath almost hitched in her throat. If he tried to kiss her, she was sure she would slap him. “Goodnight, Miss Eleanor."

"Goodnight, sir," she said as she curtsied, not meeting his eyes but relieved that she could leave his presence.

\------------------------------

Once inside, Ella closed the door and put her back to it, sinking down and breathing heavily.

She knew the ladies in camp would not spare her; she was certain she would be the center of the numerous rumors they would start. And the thought of having to be near Arnold at the independence day party made her skin crawl. He would try something; she was certain of it.

Her mother’s gentle footsteps sounded in the hallway.

“Eleanor? Are you back?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Yes, mother. I’ve just returned.” She scrambled to stand up before her mother saw her melting into the floor.

“How was it, my dear?” Martha asked softly. Her expression revealed concern and compassion for her daughter, who looked rather distressed.

A deep sigh escaped Eleanor.

“The play was adequate. My companion was not so.”

Martha’s eyes looked on her with sympathy.

“You look like you could use a drink. Something stronger than tea, perhaps?”

Eleanor looked at her mother inquisitively, but followed her into one of the rooms her father used for meetings and such. She wedged a brick out of the fireplace, revealing a key. She then opened the grandfather clock in the corner of the room with said key.

“Mr. Sackett,” she said as she unlocked a compartment in the clock, “keeps a bottle of whiskey in here for when days are not going as well as planned. He’s given me an extra key in case I grow too exasperated with your father.”

Ella could not help but laugh at their antics. The two of them were adorable in their interactions. After she poured two glasses, she locked up the clock and the two of them headed to the comfort of the sitting room. Once they were seated on the sofa, Martha implored her to tell her about the evening.

Eleanor began with his mention of couples before they’d left for the play, and how he was always too close for comfort. At the play, he’d been rather attentive and too bold in taking glances at her figure. Afterward, he’d paraded her around the room and introduced her as some prize that he’d won. She didn’t realize that her eyes were brimming with tears as she related the invite to the independence day party.

“Mother, I'm afraid I’ve led him on. And I think he may take things a step further at the party.  There’s no escaping him; I know it.”

Martha sighed. She hated that her daughter was caught in such a predicament.

“Oh, and he asked me to call him by his Christian name, not by his military rank. It felt very uncomfortable.”

Her mother’s eyes widened.

“Did you acquiesce to his request?”

Eleanor nodded shamefully.

“I didn’t know how to say no, and I feared he would make a scene at the theater. However, I think I only said his name four times the entire evening for fear of someone hearing. Have I done wrong there?”

Martha sipped her drink and fixed her gaze on another point in the room. She did not look at her daughter as she spoke.

“Well, darling, I think you find yourself in quite the predicament. With all you just relayed to me, I am concerned that the general might think you are not only interested on him, but that you two have entered a courtship of sorts."

Ella's eyes widened and her throat felt dry. This could not be happening to her. "No! This is not what I want, mother! What should I do now?"

Martha threw back the rest of her wine in a most unladylike manner, and pondered her daughter’s distress for a few moments.

“I think…you should avoid him at all costs. If he approaches you and you cannot escape, be civil. Do not act aloof. That would look too sudden, but keep a respectable distance between the two of you and if you can evade his presence the better."

"I will try my best mother. I do not feel comfortable at all near him."

Eleanor followed her mother’s example and drained the rest of her wine.

“I talked briefly to Major Tallmadge after the play. He arrived alone.” She paused and looked at the floor. “I think he was going to ask me to go, but couldn’t when he learned that General Arnold did.”

Martha raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? What exactly did he say?”

The girl blushed. “That he was planning on asking a beautiful lady to accompany him, but another man was braver and beat him to it.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Martha’s mouth.

“How do you know it you he was talking about?”

Eleanor looked at the floor as she mumbled, “Because he had that look that you were talking about.”

Martha looked at her daughter's face and she knew that look very well. Eleanor was the only daughter she had left, and she would do anything in the world to make her happy, even if that was to go against her husband. She could not let George go on with this insane match. She loved the man but sometimes he was so obtuse it drove her mad! She reached over and held her daughters hand, squeezing it lovingly.

“I told you he makes that look.”

Ella smiled at the carpet.

“I’m glad he does,” she whispered.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day found Ella and the rest of the ladies doing chores again, only this time they were cooking a midday meal for the soldiers. It was a welcome break from laundry, but it still wasn’t her favorite thing to do. She felt like a barmaid when she went around with a pitcher, refilling their plates and pouring their ale. She knew the soldiers stole glances at her bosom as she did so. Some were bold enough to flirt with her. She’d learned her lesson earlier. She wasn’t as severe as she used to be, but she still didn’t care to flirt back.

She wore her simple green gown with a kerchief and apron, and a cap covered most of her hair. A few curls flew astray, but Ella didn’t mind. It gave her a more casual appearance.

The ladies were clucking with gossip as she entered the little kitchen building to fill up the pitchers again.

“Was the play wonderful, Miss Eleanor?” Mrs. Miller asked, that mischievous smile on her face. Ella wanted to be cold and unfeeling, but common decency would not allow it. She didn’t want this woman to spread any more gossip that she already did.

A bevy of other ladies stood around her, waiting with bated breath to hear what was said.

“It was lovely to go out and have some cultural entertainment,” Eleanor said as neutrally as possible.

“Oh, child, you always skirt away from the good parts of the story! I heard he was very attentive to you.” Some of the girls giggled at those words. What was this woman trying to do? Why did she make this her business?

She swallowed and forced a smile.

“He was a proper gentleman; I’ll give him that.”

Mrs. Miller frowned.

“I heard he could not keep his eyes off you all night. I also heard that you were making a certain Major quite jealous.”

Eleanor felt as if the wind had all been knocked out of her body at that point, but she tried to continue showing a neutral expression. How the hell did this woman acquire such information?

Martha watched this exchange with growing unease.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mrs. Miller.”

“Major Tallmadge! He talked to you after the play, did he not?”

“He did, but I talked to several people after the play, Mrs. Miller. I do not see why talking to the Major would be such a relevant information." Eleanor had to hold the iciness of her voice.

Mrs. Miller tittled.

“My my, how defensive you are."

Eleanor paused for a second, unsure of what to do. She needed to plan her next move carefully in order not to cause any more of this ridiculous gossip.

“Well the madam, forgive me but I do not like of the implications of your comment." She forced a smile.

“That’s alright dear, I’m sure you’re under a lot of pressure with so many men after you. You’re still unattached, aren’t you?”

“At the moment, yes.” Eleanor decided to say no more upon the subject, which was good as her mother intervened at that moment.

“You seem to hear a lot of things at camp, Mrs. Miller. How did you come by all this gossip?” she asked, a biting edge in her tone.

The older woman didn’t get a chance to answer, as a messenger had arrived, asking for Miss Eleanor. The hens dispersed, going back to the cooking and preparing of the midday meal.

Eleanor was glad to excuse herself from such frivolities. If Mrs. Miller had continued, her blood would have begun to boil in anger; no doubt.

She followed the messenger back to the house, as her presence was requested. Apparently a man was delivering a parcel to her, and insisted on giving it to her in person.

The messenger led her into her father’s study where the man stood waiting. When he turned around, she was delighted to see Caleb Brewster, the one that Mr. Sackett said did the running around for the intelligence.

“Mr. Brewster! What a surprise,” she said, her smile genuine this time.

His bearded face broke into a grin.

“Aye, Miss Eleanor, it’s good t’ see you. Ya don’t have t’ call me Mr. Brewster. That makes me sound like an old man,” he said, fiddling with the small parcel in his hands.

She was glad to call him by his Christian name, unlike General Arnold. This man seemed much more deserving of her trust and friendship.

“Alright then, Caleb. To what do I owe the pleasure? Should I call for tea?” she asked. She had a feeling he wouldn’t care for tea, but it was polite to ask.

“No, thank you, Miss. I’m just here to deliver a little somethin’. I’ve got t’ be on my way after this, anyhow.”

He shuffled forward and gave her the little parcel with a twinkle in his eye. She looked at him suspiciously.

“Should I be worried? You look very mischievous.”

Caleb chuckled.

“No, not worried. Just intrasted t’ see yer reaction, is all.”

A playful smile turned up the corners of her mouth as she unwrapped the paper. It was a book—one she’d been wanting for a while. It was Edward Gibbon’s _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire._ She looked at Caleb in wonder.

“How…how did you…”

He pointed at the book.

“There’s a note, at the front cover. Read that and it’ll make more sense.”

Ella read it silently to herself.

_Dear Lady Washington,_

_I would like to sincerely apologize for insulting you at the shop. It was rude of me to judge you having never met you before. Your comments have helped me realize that it is unfair to make judgments about people based solely on their appearances, and I’m working hard to improve._

_Please enjoy the book Caleb gives you, as I know it’s what you requested. You are most welcome at our humble little book shop, and I pray that you return and do not hold us in ill regard._

_Frida Rølvaag_

“Oh my goodness…this is the Norwegian girl from the book shop! How does she know who I am? How does she know…”

Caleb looked at her with a wide, smug grin on his face.

“You two! You are…you know each other?” she asked incredulously.

He shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Ella laughed heartily. This entire situation was hilarious to her.

“So you…you and this Frida, you’re together?”

“That we are, Miss Eleanor,” he confirmed. His eyes sparkled at the mere mention of Frida.

Without warning, she rushed forward and hugged Caleb. This took him by surprise, and he patted her back awkwardly.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, pulling away after a moment. “That was very improper of me.”

He smiled and clasped his hands behind his back.

“That’s a’right. I have a feeling we’ll be spending more time together as it is.”

She knew he was implying her relationship with the Major, and she blushed slightly. This earned a light chuckle from Caleb.

“I must thank Frida. Perhaps I should write her a note. Oh! Better yet, I could visit the shop.”

“Yer very polite, Miss. I know Frida would probably appreciate it. I’ll take ye tomorrow if you’d like. She doesn’t ‘ave many friends in the colonies, being an immigrant and all. She’s still tryin’ t’ find her place in the world, and sometimes she can come off a bit rude.”

Ella looked at the floor, her expression somewhat softened.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like to be in her place. I feel rather bad for imitating her now.”

“Well, it weren’t too far off,” he said. The both of them laughed at his comment. “When she learned who you were, and that I knew you and had met you before, she was kinda embarrassed. You shoulda seen the look on her face.”

Eleanor smirked.

“But seriously Miss Eleanor, I can take ye to see her tomorrow. I know she won’t mind.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to impose…”

“Ya wouldn’t! Ye’d be very welcome! I’ll take ya tomorrow afternoon, if yer free then.”

“Well,” she said, holding up the book, “this was very generous of her. And I would like to thank her in person.”

Caleb grinned so wide she was afraid his face would split in two.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow afternoon, then!”

Eleanor was beaming with excitement. This was such a hilarious coincidence, and had considerably brightened her day.

 


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

**July 1777**

Nervous excitement fluttered like butterflies in Eleanor’s stomach. She was on her way to visit Miss Frida Rølvaag in town to thank her for the gift, and she wasn’t sure what to expect. Caleb was with her, as he knew her best. He would act as kind of a buffer if things got awkward.

Nevertheless, Eleanor was excited to meet this woman. Although she had insulted her in the bookshop a little over a month earlier, she’d shown enough discretion to apologize and recognize what was wrong. Even if it were at Caleb’s urging, it was still a nice gesture. And any woman that was romantically attached to Caleb Brewster had to be interesting.

She’d wanted to ask Caleb all about Frida and their relationship, but she decided to save the topic as a conversation starter in case uncomfortable silences occurred. She also wanted him to tell her all about Frida, but she didn’t press him for the same reason.

“You alright, Miss?” Caleb asked her, looking intently at her face. The two of them had decided against taking a carriage, since she did not want to appear snobbish. So, she’d dressed plainly and they rode on horseback. She didn’t mind so much-carriages were often bumpy and stuffy, and she preferred the freedom of riding horseback.

“I’m fine. Just a bit nervous, I suppose.”

He smiled.

“Frida’s tough, but she won’t hurt you.”

Ella blinked and looked at him, puzzled.

“I know she won’t hurt me, that’s not what I am afraid. I fear I have found myself in a situation unlike any before and I am overtly anxious about this meeting. What if it gets awkward, Caleb? And we have nothing to say to each other?” The younger woman fretted.

She is perfect for Ben, Caleb thought, without a doubt.

“Don’t worry, Miss Eleanor. You two’ll hit it off pretty well, I think,” the smuggler grinned.

Ella face still had a distressed look to it. “Does that mean that she tried to hurt you when you first met?”

Caleb threw back his head and laughed that jolly laugh.

“Ah, well,” he began when he regained composure, “not exactly hurt me. She did point a pistol at me, though.”

He only laughed more at her startled expression. “I’ll let her tell ya the story. But, I should warn you…”

She raised her eyebrow questioningly as he cleared his throat.

“Frida and I are involved in what ya might call…illegal activities. It’s um…it has t’ do with how we met. That’s as much background as I can offer. Frida won’t wanna talk very much if she thinks yer ignorant of…what we do.”

Ella nodded in understanding. She suspected he wasn’t exactly a model citizen, so she was glad to hear him confirm it. She supposed war times were even harder on people. While she had never been in need of anything, she was not ignorant of people’s struggles to survive, so she wasn’t in a place to judge them.

Her nerves hadn’t subsided any when they reached the bookstore. In fact, they were heightened, and she was desperately afraid of saying the wrong things. Now that she knew that both Caleb and Frida were smugglers, she was afraid she might say the wrong thing and make everyone uncomfortable.

“Hey, everything’s gonna be fine,” he said as they dismounted.

“I hope so,” she said, untying the small basket from the saddle. Her mother had told her to bring a fruit basket to look hospitable.

Caleb was grinning as he opened the door to the bookshop. Ella knew he was excited for the two of them to meet properly.

As soon as he stepped foot inside, a little girl with curly brown hair came bounding out from behind the counter to greet him.

“Caleb! I knew you were coming today,” said the little girl. Ella stood back, smiling pleasantly at the exchange.

“Ay, come ‘ere, you!” he said, picking her up and kissing her on the cheek. “How’ve ya been, _lille en_?”

Ella was impressed to hear Caleb speak the little bit of Danish. He really didn’t look like he was multilingual.

“This is my friend, Miss Eleanor. Miss Eleanor, this is Sigrid.” he said, turning to face her, the child still in his arms. “Can you say hello to her?”

“Hello, Miss Eleanor! You’re very pretty. Are you a princess?”

Ella laughed nervously.

“How very sweet you are! It’s nice to meet you.”

Caleb looked at Sigrid again.

“I should prob’ly let ya down so you can curtsy to her. She ain’t a princess, but she is a proper lady.” His tone was joking, but it didn’t put her at ease. She was trying to avoid that persona today.

“Caleb!” she scolded, though not too harshly.

Caleb just winked at her before letting Sigrid down.

“Can ya go tell Frida we’re here?”

“Frida already knows,” said a woman’s voice from the back of the shop. At that moment, a beautiful blonde woman walked out from behind the counter. Sure enough, it was Frida. This time, Ella was able to get a good look at her. She and Caleb were so exactly opposite—she was fair, tall, and graceful—Caleb was, well, not. Even their personalities seemed the opposite. She radiated a sense of cool, unearthly beauty; the kind that either repelled people immediately or caused people to fall in love with her instantly. It was exotic, and she could tell why Caleb had fallen for her.

She stopped before Ella, and curtsied slightly. Ella was honestly surprised and curtsied back.

“It’s nice to be introduced on different terms, Miss Eleanor,” she said with a wry smile. Caleb looked at the two of them, beaming.

“I quite agree. Caleb’s told me a little bit about you.”

Frida’s smile turned a little stiff as she looked to Caleb, who stood close and wrapped his arm around her waist. She whispered something to him in Danish, and he whispered back in English. “She knows, Frida. It’s alright.”

A look of relief crossed over Frida’s face, and the stiff smile was replaced by a genuine one. Ella nodded and smiled, as if to show her encouragement.

“To be honest, I was worried about talking to you. I…thought if I let something slip about our…lifestyle, that you would suddenly think less of us and even report us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it! I was very worried about coming here. I didn’t want to look a snob again.”

“She’s not lyin, Frida. She was askin’ me the whole time what to say and do ‘round you.”

Ella blushed lightly at his words, and Frida giggled. He drew her in and kissed her sweetly. Frida gave in for a moment, but she quickly pulled away and swatted at his chest.

“Caleb! I have a guest, and you are being inappropriate.”

“You kissed back,” he said tauntingly.

“It was a moment of weakness.”

He chuckled and kissed her cheek as she unwrapped herself from his gentle hold, offering Ella her arm.

“Come this way, Miss Eleanor. I have tea in the garden. I’m afraid it isn’t what you’re used to, but it’s the best we have.”

Caleb heard Ella say some reassuring things to Frida, and watched them walk out to the little garden together before realizing they were leaving him behind.

“Am I invited?” he called after them.

“There’s ale for you in the kitchen, Caleb. You can join us in the garden if you wish, but Björn has been waiting to talk with you all morning.”

He smiled after them and headed to the kitchen. Honestly, this was going much better than he’d expected. He knew Frida was putting on a bit more of a show, as she was usually more frigid around new people, but she was trying her hardest to not seem that way. At least Miss Eleanor was a warm and friendly person. He hoped she would bring Frida out of her shell.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Please, call me Eleanor, or Ella, if you wish. Miss Washington or even Miss Eleanor seems too formal,” Ella said as Frida poured their tea.

“Of course, Eleanor. Given it all, I thought it was better to refer to you as Lady Washington in my note.”

“Ah, well, it was very thoughtful of you. Lady Washington is my mother, though. I’m simply Miss Eleanor to everyone else.”

“Even to Benjamin?” Frida asked innocently. Ella almost spit out her tea, and Frida looked confused. She inquired if the tea were not to her taste.

“No, no it’s not that!” insisted Ella. “What do you mean…to Benjamin? How do you know…?”

Frida looked genuinely surprised, and even a little embarrassed.

“Oh…Caleb told me you and Major Tallmadge were together. Is that not the case? He must be feeding me lies.”

Ella smiled and gently put her teacup back in its saucer.

“It’s rather complicated,” she said.

Frida gestured for her to tell, so Ella launched into the story of how she met the Major at the ball, and how they’d danced together. Then she told her about their run-in with the laundry before she’d gone to town to this very bookshop. Frida was shocked to learn that Patriot soldiers had assaulted a young lady, but she thought it dashing of the Major to rescue her. Ella continued by telling her how they spent time together, and how she had a feeling he’d planned to ask her to the play. When she mentioned General Arnold, Frida’s eyes widened.

She’d heard of his skills on the battlefield, and he was somewhat of a legendary figure around the colonies. Eleanor must indeed be special to capture his attention. When she voiced this thought, Eleanor snorted.

“If you met him, you would not say such things. He’s quite brash, and a bit rude. He’s always looking for excuses be near me or touch me, and it makes me uncomfortable. He paraded me around the theater after the play like I was a prized horse.”

“My goodness. I don’t know what a proper gentleman should look like, but I have an idea that it doesn’t look like General Arnold.”

Ella concurred with her thought; General Arnold was not all gentlemanly indeed.

“You’re certainly right. There’s an Independence Day party happening at camp later this week, and I fear he will try something.” She paused for a moment before blurting out, “You should come! It will be great fun!”

Frida cocked her head.

“Watching the famous General Arnold try to woo you would be great fun?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. Come to the Independence Day party! There will be music and dancing, and I think Caleb will be going, as well.”

“Caleb’ll be goin’ where?” he asked, emerging from the house with Björn in tow.

“To the independence day party at the camp,” answered Frida before introducing Eleanor to Björn. Ella smiled at the young man, who bowed his head and took his seat next to Caleb on the grass.

“Oh yeah, I’m goin’ to that. Commander’s givin’ out free booze. Wouldn’t miss it fer the world.”

Frida rolled her eyes and gently kicked his shin.

“What? He is! Besides, Ben asked me to bring in a special shipment fer the celebration.”

“I do not know, Eleanor. I do not want to intrude.”

“Oh, but you wouldn’t be! I would gladly welcome your presence! I think Caleb would be glad to see you there, as well.”

Caleb looked up at Frida with puppy dog eyes, resting his hand just above her knee.

“She ain’t wrong, ya know. I’ll even escort you, like a proper gentleman. C’mon _kæreste,_ it’ll be fun.”

Frida patted his hand patronizingly, as if to gently tell him to stop touching her as she pondered her answer.

“Can I let you know tomorrow?”

“Of course,” said Ella gracefully.

“She really means yes, though,” Caleb said, teasing Frida further. A light pink color bloomed in her cheeks, and he chuckled.

Ella marveled at how absolutely perfect these two were for each other. She could see that they brought out the best in each other, and they truly felt comfortable around each other. She found herself wishing she had something similar. Then a pang of sorrow shot through her heart, though briefly. She had felt this before-with Tom. And it had been unfairly ripped away from her. She had to stifle these dark thoughts somehow.

“Frida, how did you and Caleb meet?” she asked, smiling mischievously at the both of them. Frida’s younger brother Bjorn snorted.

“It’s actually a really funny story. Ya wanna tell ‘er, Frida?”

She shook her head.

“You’re much better at it.”

Caleb grinned and launched into the story. Ella thought the sight was adorable-Frida sitting in her chair, sipping her tea, while Caleb sat cross legged on the grass below her, leaning his head against her leg.

Apparently, Frida met him while doing her first-ever black market deal. She’d dressed as a man - Björn was quick to add that she looked like a ridiculous pirate - and rowed her boat across the Sound. Caleb was expecting a different contact, and pointed a pistol at her. Instead of running away or crying, as he expected any other woman to do, she whipped out a pistol of her own and stood her ground. From then on, they did business together and eventually, that business escalated to something much more.

Ella listened to the story with wide eyes. It was like something out of an adventure novel. When she voiced this opinion, the two of them laughed.

“I’m glad you chose not to shoot me,” said Frida teasingly.

“How could I hurt somethin’ so beautiful?” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. Frida bit her lip and blushed again.

“We’re goin’ t’ the party, Miss Eleanor, whether she likes it or not.”

Frida did not protest, and instead smiled down at Caleb.

Ella was glad for it. She was happy to have found a friend in Frida, and even more so that this friend was coming to the party. Now, she had actually had something to look forward to.

For the rest of the afternoon, she, Frida, Caleb, and Björn talked and laughed together as if they’d known each other longer than the mere hours they’d been acquainted. She was fascinated to learn about Frida’s past, and her tales of life in Norway.

She could tell that Frida was reluctant to divulge her entire story to a complete stranger, but Caleb kept prompting her, and assuring her that Eleanor was a trustworthy person.

Young Björn was more than happy to tell this pretty lady about their life in Norway. Her brother had starry eyes when addressing Miss Eleanor, but she couldn’t blame him. The commander’s daughter was kind and gentle, and certainly not as snobby as Frida had first perceived. Her presence was comforting, and drew people in. She radiated peace, and Frida wondered exactly how she did it.

After a while, dusk began to fall. Caleb had promised Lady Washington to get Eleanor back to camp before dark.

“Well, Miss Eleanor, I’ve to ter get ye back to the house, don’t I? Tallboy’s told me some pretty horrible stories about the commander’s temper,” Caleb said with a wry smile, still leaning against Frida’s leg.

Ella concurred. Although her father was generally a calm man, seeing the full extent of his anger was less than pleasant. They all exchanged their goodbyes, and Ella was actually a bit sad to leave. The bookshop was a wonderful, quiet little place, and Frida and her siblings were delightful. The love between Caleb and Frida was warm and bright. Even though they were almost exact opposites, Ella couldn’t help but think they were perfectly matched.

When she voiced this thought to Caleb as they rode back to camp, she expected him to laugh. Instead, the smuggler’s cheeks reddened and he grinned.

Frida and Björn watched as Ella and Caleb rode away. She’d been far too harsh in her initial judgment of Eleanor, and she was glad to be better acquainted with her now. Not every simple shopkeeper could claim to be friends with the daughter of the commander of the Continental Army.

“I like her,” Björn said simply. Frida nodded, quietly agreeing.

“She’s very pretty. Does she have a suitor?”

Frida snickered and ruffled his hair playfully.

“Did you not hear us talking? That Benjamin Tallmadge is mad for her.”

She laughed out loud at the crestfallen look on her brother’s face. “Don’t worry, _kjære._ You will find someone one day, I promise you.”

He muttered something about her not being the same as Eleanor Washington, and she smiled good-naturedly. He wasn’t wrong there.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ben was walking toward IHQ when he saw something that caught his attention. Caleb and Miss Eleanor were walking toward the house, out of the stables. It looked as if they had just arrived from town. The two of them were laughing and talking animatedly, and an inexplicable feeling of jealousy began to gnaw at him.

What was his best friend doing with the woman he was interested in? Caleb was already attached to someone-why was he with Eleanor? Ben didn’t even know they knew each other, so the sight came as a shock to him. He trusted Caleb, of course, but it still pained him to see Miss Eleanor so at ease in the company of other men. She was a bubbly person and it wasn’t hard for her to make friends, but it still irked him.

He made up his mind to ask Caleb about it later. Both of them would be present at the party, and Caleb had even talked about bringing Frida along. At least that way, Ben would have Eleanor all to himself.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**July 4, 1777**

Martha seemed to float effortlessly through the house, her beautiful blue and white gown trailing behind her. Although the party had already started, she was making sure the house was in tip-top shape. It was a much more casual affair than the ball in May, but that did not give her an excuse to slack off as a hostess.

The house remained open for those who wished to find respite from the heat of the outdoors, and people milled about, conversing pleasantly. Most of the party was taking place outside, with bonfires, fireworks, and dancing. George had ordered extra casks of rum and ale for the occasion, and the soldiers were very pleased with that.  

Presently, she walked through the kitchen, inspecting some of the food and making sure it was all visually appealing and to her liking. When that was finished, she made her way through the rest of the house, checking on the decorations, fixing little things here and there, and making sure everything was in its proper place. She stopped in front of the mirror and quickly studied her reflection, frowning slightly. Gray hairs had started appearing recently, and she wasn’t happy about it. Getting older wasn’t glamorous in the least. But, she could not dwell on her imperfections too long. She had the rest of the house to look through.

She helped the servants adjust the cutlery at the dining room table before crossing over to the drawing room, and adjusting the pillows on the sofa.

When she was satisfied with the way things looked, she made her way to the front porch, where her husband stood surveying the festivities.

He smiled down at her, taking her hand.

“Is everything to your liking, my dear?” he asked.

“It’s good enough for now,” she answered playfully.

He chuckled softly at her antics.

“How are you this evening, darling?” she returned, looking out over the camp.

“Very well. I’m glad I can let them have their enjoyment.”

Martha knew he didn’t intend for his words to have a double meaning, but she hoped he meant that, especially for her daughter and Major Tallmadge. She hoped tonight would bring the two of them even closer.

She pulled lightly at George’s cravat. She was too short to simply just kiss him, so this was her way of letting him know what she wanted. He smiled and obliged, stooping so that his lips met hers in a quick, light kiss.

“I have to go be a good hostess now and talk with the ladies,” she said afterward.

“Good luck,” he said, somewhat sardonically, kissing her hands before letting her go. She looked back at him and stuck out her tongue jokingly.

A soft chuckle escaped him again. He was lucky to be married to such a woman.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 Ben took a swig from his bottle of rum as he watched Miss Eleanor dance a jig with some of the other ladies and soldiers. He tended to be better at socializing with a little liquid courage, and he planned on taking full advantage of the free services provided tonight.

She certainly looked lovely tonight. Her gown was a creamy white _robe a l’anglaise_ with a dark blue petticoat, embroidered with little white flowers. Little red ribbons were threaded through her hair, and she looked so incredibly charming.

He knew he wasn’t the only man looking at her. She was the center of attention tonight, and he noticed several other man taking lingering looks at her figure. He couldn’t blame them, of course, but it still incited jealousy within him.

He’d been feeling that a lot lately, especially in regards to the lady in question. He wondered if it meant something more. Having never been in love, he wasn’t sure what to feel or what to think. Perhaps Caleb could give him advice, since he and Frida were so content.

He took another swig from his bottle, and sat down on a nearby bench, content to watch the dancers. Hopefully he’d soon have enough courage to speak to Eleanor without bumbling and feeling nervous.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ella and Frida laughed freely as they walked around the camp. She was trying to give the blonde girl a grand tour and tell her what military life was like, but they were in such high spirits that they were walking around the party like two mischievous schoolgirls. Frida, however, had a little more to drink than she’d planned, and she was only half paying attention to what Eleanor was saying.

“You know,” Frida said, taking a sip of her wine, “Benjamin couldn’t stop staring at you tonight.” She wriggled her eyebrows at her own words.

Ella’s blush would have deepened if her face wasn’t already crimson from drinking and walking around camp.

“Are you sure? I don’t think he really cares that much for me.”

Frida laughed.

“Caleb says he does! Apparently, he talks about you a great deal to Caleb. I think he is just shy around you.”

“Well, I wish he would say something.”

Frida stopped Ella in her tracks and looked her directly in the eyes.

“Eleanor, he rescued you from those soldiers. He offered to sweep you off your feet and carry you back home. He has not danced with any other woman tonight, no matter how many have approached him. And, he cannot peel his eyes away from you. I am telling you, he’s shy.”

“That’s what my mother and Mr. Sackett say too,” said Ella as they made their way back to the house.

“See! Other people have noticed as well! I know I’m right. I have sources, and excellent intuition.”

Ella bit her bottom lip and smiled, staring sheepishly at the ground. At that moment, Caleb appeared before the two of them, grinning.

“Good evening ladies.” The smuggler did a mock bow. “Miss Frida, would you care to dance with me?” she giggled as he held out his hand, and she took it.

“I would be delighted.”

“Benny boy’s skulking and drinking outside his tent. Bein’ kind of a pisspot, really. I can tell him to come find you, if ya’d like,” he said, winking at Ella.

Ella began to protest, telling him it wasn’t necessary, but Frida shot her a look that told her to say yes.

“I…well, alright then, if you insist.”

Caleb laughed at her hesitation.

“Oh-ho, I do insist. Wait here, I’ll tell ‘im to come t’ you.”

The couple skipped merrily in direction of the soldiers tents. Ella looked at them and admired how unlikely they were as a couple. While Frida was lanky and fair, Caleb was all hard edges and dark looks. Well, she guessed, opposites do attract.

As she awaited the Major’s arrival, she marveled what wonderful night it was. Her mother had executed everything to perfection – even the stars shone in the sky, her father had pointed out earlier that not even heavens dared to challenge her mother’s will in making tonight perfect. To make it even better, the prospect of spending the night with one of her favorite people lightened her mood.

“Are you enjoying the festivities, Miss Eleanor?” a familiar voice interrupted her musings. It wasn’t the Major's, however, and she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She whirled around to see General Arnold looking down at her and smiling.

Apparently, the thought about spending the night with her favorite people had been too soon.

She plastered a gracious smile and curtsied to him.

“I am, sir. Thank you. How are you finding the evening?” she asked, trying to maintain a respectable distance and a colder civility between them.

“Much better, now that I’ve found you.” She looked up at him, worry in her eyes. He obviously didn’t see it as worry, however, and chuckled at her expression.

“My, such…such fine words, General,” she said. She wanted her tone to imply that she was flattered but not interested. She really wanted nothing more than for him to go away and for Major Tallmadge to rescue her from this infernal man.

“Miss Eleanor, I’ve told you…”

“Yes, yes I know. But I’ve also told you that it’s difficult to break habits.”

“Will you permit me a walk in the garden?” he asked, offering his arm to her. She felt as if someone had hit her in the stomach with a stone, and a cold sense of dread chilled her veins. She didn’t like where this was going at all.

Major Tallmadge hadn’t arrived yet, and she didn’t see him anywhere. In that case, she looked around desperately for her parents, or even Caleb or Frida, but they were nowhere in sight.

 “Yes, I will,” she finally said, and she reluctantly took Arnold’s arm.

He led her to the gardens behind the house. Every fiber of her being told her to run away, but she couldn’t. Although they were at a party and she could get away with much more tonight, she still had to maintain a sense of decorum.

Once in the gardens, Arnold slowed his pace and they strolled around leisurely.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it certainly is,” she said, looking up at the sky. She could practically feel his eyes on her, and she shuddered to know his thoughts.

“Not nearly as beautiful as you, though.”

Ella resisted the urge to snort, and instead laughed uncomfortably. That was a terrible line. Did he seriously think it would work?

“You are too kind, sir.”

“And you are too modest in your affections.”

She looked up at him quizzically.

“I…I’m sorry?” she said.

“Miss Eleanor…” he began, as if he were carefully choosing his words. She became worried at that—Arnold was usually anything but careful. “I think by now, you are aware that my feelings for you are very strong indeed.”

Ella said nothing. In order to refrain from crying or laughing—she wasn’t sure which she would do at this point—and instead nodded.

He held her hands and stepped closer; close enough to make Ella feel uncomfortable. She felt a little dizzy with apprehension. If he tried to kiss her, as she suspected, she knew she would punch him.

“And, unless I’m very wrong, those feelings seem to be mutual. Miss Eleanor, I’ve asked your father if he would approve of us being together, and if you’re willing, we can formally enter into a courtship.”

Ella felt cold and numb at his words. He’d gone to her father? And her father had approved? Why hadn’t he approached her first? So many thoughts were swirling through her head, and she needed a moment to sit down and sift through them. Frankly, she wanted to flat out refuse him right then and there, but she was determined to take the high road and maintain decorum.

“Sir…” she began gently, looking at the ground, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but those feelings are not mutual.”

His jaw tensed, and she could tell that he was having trouble keeping his temper at bay.

“I know sometimes that ladies like to lead men on in a chase, and refusing them the first time is part of that chase-“

She sighed and shook her head, gently unclasping her hands from his.

“General Arnold, I am sorry if my actions lead you on in any way, but that was never my intention. Please understand that when I refuse you, I do mean it.”

He clenched his jaw harder, holding his hands behind his back as if to restrain himself.

“Then how do you explain your behavior toward me? You led me to believe you were interested in me on several occasions.”

She took a deep breath, pressing her hand to her stomach. Her stays were tighter than normal, and with all this excitement, it was possible she would faint.

“Again, I must say I am sorry, General. My intentions were never to play with your feelings or deceive you. I was simply being polite, as I did not wish to offend you.”

“Would you at least consider it? Eleanor—” this was the first time he’d referred to her by just her Christian name- “I find you to be the most singular woman. You would make the happiest man in the world if—“

At that moment, she had to interrupt him.

“Please, sir, continue no further. I’m so sorry to disappoint you, but I simply cannot. Please understand me.”

He paced back and forth for a few moments. His anger was brewing, and she hoped he wouldn’t yell or try anything physical.

“Then will you at least tell me why?”

She drew a deep breath, and sat on the stone bench in the garden. If she stood any longer, she was sure she would faint. Her head was already spinning.

“Sir, I…I simply cannot. My feelings for you are not romantic in nature. But I hope not to lose your friendship over something like this.”

He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, still pacing back and forth in front of her. Suddenly, he stopped, and looked stonily at her. His tone held an icy edge.

“Is there someone else?”

She was taken aback by the abruptness of the question, and pressed her hand to her stomach again. The butterflies were getting worse.

“I’m…I’m sorry?”

“Is there another man for whom you have feelings? Is that why you refuse me?”

Ella wasn’t even sure how to respond. Yes, she did have feelings for another man, but she didn’t want to reveal it. She knew she had frozen at his question, and it was obvious that he saw her ponder her answer.

“So there is. Is it Major Tallmadge? He seems very fond of you.”

“Wha—I—how could—“

Arnold uttered a sardonic chuckle.

“I knew it. The way he looked at you after the play was proof enough. Not to mention the rumors around camp-“

Ella’s heart skipped a beat. There were rumors? Already? She was desperate to know what people were saying, but she wanted to be rid of Arnold’s presence as soon as possible. So many thoughts and worries danced through her head, and she couldn’t make sense of all of them quite yet.

“General, I must ask you to stop. Please say no more. I…I can’t do this. I’m so sorry,” she said, standing up and running out of the garden.

Perhaps it was bad manners of her to run away, but she couldn’t stand to be near such a man any longer. Had she really led him on? Perhaps her behavior had been a bit too friendly with him, but it was as she said-she hadn’t wanted to offend him. This caused her to think about her behavior toward all men in general. Had she been deemed a floozy? She certainly hoped not. As the commander’s daughter, she had a reputation to uphold.

All these thoughts stewed in her mind, and she didn’t realize where she was running until it was too late. She ran into someone while looking back and hoping Arnold wasn’t following her. Ella would have fallen on her backside had the person not caught hold of her at the right moment.

“I am so sorry! Please forgive me for…” she looked up into the grinning face of Major Benjamin Tallmadge.

“I guess you are making a habit of running into me, Miss Eleanor,” he said, a flirtatious smile on his face. She looked down at the ground, embarrassed. It seemed she was indeed making this a habit.

His hands still held on to hers as they spoke, and he marveled at their softness.

“I’m so sorry,” she said sincerely. She still didn’t have the courage to look him in the eye.

“Don’t be. I didn’t mind the first time and I certainly don’t mind now. I was actually looking for you.”

She slowly looked up into his beautiful blue eyes.

“That’s perfect,” she breathed.

“It is?” he asked, shuffling a little closer to her.

"Yes. Can you rescue me from this party?" She asked him breathlessly. She wanted to get as far away as possible from General Arnold, and considering Benjamin's state of inebriation she thought it was better for him to not know what transpired between the two of them.

“I am your humble servant, _madam_ e,” he said offering his hand, smiling gently. Ella gladly took his offering hand and let him lead her towards the dancing area.

She was a little confused, she thought he was taking her away from it all, but as soon Caleb and Frida were, visible Ben whistled.

“Oi, Caleb! Bring some booze and a blanket and follow us!”

Ella giggled at his antics, and just now noticed the tip of his nose and his cheeks, which were flushed. She was enjoying this confidence, even if it was brought on by artificial means. Caleb looked at the two of them and grinned, following his friend’s orders.

“Would you care to watch the sunrise with us?” he asked, looking down at her expectantly.

Her eyes lit up at his request, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Ben.

“I’d very much enjoy that,” she said breathlessly, laughing as Ben pulled her in the direction of the river.

This sort of attention was far more welcome.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Martha watched the interaction between the Major and her daughter like a hawk. She hoped desperately that something would arise between them, and it looked like tonight would be a turning point in the relationship.

He held her hand, and the two of them practically skipped toward the direction of the river. Caleb and the pretty blonde girl from the bookshop followed close behind.

“My dear, what are you…” George began to ask, but his voice trailed off at the sight of his daughter running along with the Major.

“What is going on? It looks entirely inappropriate. Martha, we must stop this at once.”

He started to walk toward them, but Martha held his arm, rooted to her place.

“No, let them have their fun. This is a party, after all.”

George grumbled.

“If this party results in scandal, I will not be pleased. Ella is unmarried. Running off into the woods with an unmarried man will cause all sorts of talk. I will not have my daughter regarded as a whore.”

Martha slapped her husband on the arm rather forcefully.

“George! How can you say such things? This is a party! As I said, let them have their fun! Poor Ella could certainly use some after all she’s been through.”

He groaned and watched them galavant away, the distaste evident on his countenance.

Martha, however, was highly pleased. She hoped her daughter and the Major would finally stop dancing around each other about their feelings. She grinned as they disappeared into the woods, laughing merrily. If all went well, she and Mr. Sackett would be rejoicing very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’ve said this before, but posting will slow down significantly after this. majorstallmadge and I are extremely busy with life now, trying to be proper adults. Also, we are placing Desperate Measures on hiatus because we simply can’t do oneshots, this story, and Desperate Measures at the same time. I will still take requests for oneshots for those interested, because I can focus better on short term things. That being said, enjoy this chapter!


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Ella laughed breathlessly as she, Ben, Caleb, and Frida finally arrived at the river. She knew this kind of behavior was highly imprudent for a lady in her position, but at the moment she couldn’t care less about it. She hadn’t felt this free in quite a while, and if it meant she got to spend more time with Major Tallmadge, then she was going to take full advantage of it. Her three companions were singing a bawdy sea shanty – they all seemed very familiar with it – while she laughed heartily at its scandalous lyrics.

Their fingers were still laced together and the Major would occasionally steal furtive glances at her. She had to bite her lip to fight the smile on her face. She felt incredibly giddy with his attention; the liquor in her veins making her completely carefree. Unlike General Arnold’s attention earlier on, the affections of Major Tallmadge were most welcome.

 “Does this spot seem alright?” said Ella, pointing to a spot at the top of the hill under the tree. Ben smiled slightly.

“Of course. Very _secluded,_ wouldn’t you say?” he said playfully, looking down at Ella, who blushed at his meaning.

“Very much so. Perfect for those little lovebirds,” she said, giggling and nodding her head toward Caleb and Frida, who had ceased singing and were now kissing passionately.

Ben chuckled.

“I don’t know if I would call them lovebirds. They look more like two seals fighting over a grape.”

Ella burst out laughing, but quickly covered her mouth when she realized how very unladylike she must have looked. The younger man’s eyes sparkled with delight; he certainly enjoyed making her laugh so merrily.

The top of the hill was the perfect spot to watch the fading stars and wait for the sunrise, Ella noticed, while the four of them plopped down unceremoniously. Caleb rested his head in Frida’s lap and nuzzled at her stomach, causing her to giggle uncontrollably.

Ella smiled as she watched the two of them, but Ben was a little more vocal.

“Oi, get a room, you two,” he jested good-naturedly.

“Hey, we’re not doin’ anything obscene. Least not yet,” he answered, looking up at Frida and wriggling his eyebrows. Frida scolded him for speaking that way and apologized to Ella, who brushed it off with a gentle smile.

Ella and Ben sat as close to each other as humanly possible without actually touching. The tension between them was palpable. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and she could feel his eyes on her. His inebriated state explained his forwardness, but she would let slide this time. It that gave him courage he needed, for the moment she would not complain.

“Eleanor,” Caleb called her for her musings. “Yer not as drunk as the rest of us, are ye?” He asked while kissing Frida’s fingertips.

Her eyes widened in surprise at his question, but she giggled nonetheless – she might not be as drunk as them, but she was certainly more _cheerful_ than usual. Before she could voice her thoughts, the Major spoke.

“I don’t think she is,” he said quietly, looking fondly at her. Their eyes met briefly, before his gaze shifted to her rosy lips.

Her heart skipped a beat. She knew they had not been acquainted long, but she wanted him to kiss her more than anything now. It was silly and reckless, however she knew in her heart and she had felt this way before, maybe now more than ever before.

Their little moment was interrupted by Frida’s voice.

“Do you have any idea how long before the sunrise?” She asked, her words slurring a bit.

“Why? Ya wanna know how much time we have to ourselves ‘til the sun comes up?”

Frida laughed and pushed at his shoulder. “No, silly! I guess the idea of waiting for the sunrise is more alluring than the actual wait.” She giggled in a most un-Frida way, Ella remarked mentally.

She took a swig from the bottle of wine, looking up to the dark horizon. She was pleasantly surprised when colorful fireworks burst across the sky, and almost spilled the contents of the bottle.

Benjamin watched her sparkly eyes widen in amazement, and her rosy lips part with laughter. She was absolutely captivating, and it was taking every ounce of his strength not to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. The liquid courage had done its job a bit too well. When her surprise from the fireworks had subsided, she looked around for somewhere to set her bottle. He took it from her, and indulged himself another swig.

“Do you really need more of that, Major?” she teasingly asked, but raised her eyebrows nonetheless.

He looked down at her, his expression lit with mischief. Their faces were mere inches apart. If only he would close the gap…

“Are you concerned for my safety, Miss Eleanor?”

“If I said yes, what would you think?”

 “I would find that very endearing. And worry not, as we aren’t going anywhere for the rest of the night.”

She smiled, satisfied with his words. Without thinking, she rested her head gently on his shoulder. She did this for a few moments before sitting up suddenly, realizing she was probably getting too comfortable.

“Sorry,” she murmured, “that was careless of me.”

Ben smiled gently. “I don’t mind if you do.”

He was looking at her the way her mother had described, and she felt a bit of color bloom in her cheeks. She took his remark as an invitation, and resumed her earlier action, placing her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Ben knew how smitten he looked, but he honestly didn’t care. Eleanor was incredibly beautiful, and everything about her in this moment was intoxicating. Now that she was so close to him, he could smell the faint scent of her honeysuckle perfume, and feel the warmth of her soft skin. As the fireworks illuminated the sky, he was able to look more closely at her dazzling eyes and pretty lips. His hand rested at the small of her back, but he wished he could wrap his arms around her slender waist and pull her into his lap. This wasn’t the wine thinking. He’d thought about this for a while now, but such behavior would be inappropriate, and she would probably be uncomfortable with such an action. For now, he had to be content with her resting her head on his shoulder while watching the fireworks.

Frida and Caleb were kissing and whispering to each other, no doubt exchanging sweet little nothings. For the first time in a long time, Ben felt peaceful. Sharing booze with friends and sitting on the top of a hill waiting for the sunrise made him forget that they were in the midst of a war.

“Major?” he heard Eleanor ask, in a sweet, slightly breathy tone. It almost sounded as if she were a bit sleepy.

“Yes, Miss Eleanor?”

“Why did you become a soldier?”

He chuckled.

“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t want to at first?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know of anyone who really yearns for war.”

“I think you’d be surprised. For some men it’s all they care about, even revel on it.”

The young Major wanted to kick himself; he’d given her a philosophical answer to simple question. He was a complete dolt. He could not even keep a simple conversation with her.

“I was actually a schoolmaster in Connecticut before the war.” He offered, trying to lighten the mood.

She shifted so she could look into his eyes, and a little smirk lit up her face.

“A schoolmaster?”

He returned her gaze, looking down at her.

“Do you find it hard to believe?”

“On the contrary. You seem to have the patience for teaching.”

“I doubt some of my students would agree with you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. You’re patient enough for children, I think,” she said, before realizing what that implied. She prayed he didn’t catch that part.

He laughed quietly before he continued his story.

“A family friend was kind enough to offer me the post. And it was a good, steady position. But when the war began, I found myself drawn to the cause.”

Ella listened intently to his story of life before the war, all the while acutely aware of the way his hand was placed on her lower back, their close proximity, and the heat that radiated from his body. Their faces weren’t that far apart. If they had truly been alone, she might have taken advantage of the opportunity.

She was enjoying his stories so far-he told her about his time at Yale and his first few months as a soldier. He still hadn’t been entirely sure about joining the army at first, but when his friend Nathan Hale was hanged for spying a few months later, he decided he was firmly devoted to the cause.

Her countenance turned rather solemn at this account. She knew exactly how he felt. She knew exactly what it was like to lose someone close to you during the war. When he noticed her dim expression, he ceased his storytelling.

“I’m sorry, Miss Eleanor. I feel like I’m bombarding you with depressing stories on a merry night.”

“It’s alright. I understand you,” she said gently, trying to erase her dim expression and put on a pretty smile.

Ben suspected there was another meaning to her words, but he didn’t want to pry, especially since he’d just regaled her with a sad tale.

“Well, now that you know more about me, I feel like I’m entitled to at least one question.”

This put a smile back on that pretty face.

“What did you have in mind, Major?” she asked an edge of flirtation in her voice. A crooked smile split his handsome face at her words. He loved it when she called him that.

“Why do you travel camp to camp with your father? Surely your home is much more comfortable and safe than these rudimentary camps.”

She looked at him in a coy manner.

“Are you suggesting that I am too delicate to be in a military camp, Major?” She raised her eyebrow at him.

He stuttered over his words, and she heard Caleb chuckle. Apparently, he and Frida had been listening to their conversation.

“Major Tallmadge, do not refer to Eleanor as a delicate little lady. I learned my lesson the last time,” Frida said, winking at her.

Ella smiled and looked at the ground sheepishly as Caleb laughed out loud. The two of them resumed their antics after they’d had their fun.

“I do know what people say about me, Major, and how they expect me to behave like a proper lady at all times, so it does look rather unusual me accompanying my father, but I could not have stayed at home waiting for news on the Continental’s Army progress and my father’s safety, you see.”

He watched as she fumbled with her hands, a bit unsettled. She was worried about her father. It was easy for him to forget that George Washington was not only the Commander, but a family man and they would of course worry for his safety for reasons beyond his value as a leader. “I do not mind this life. I was not used to the chores but it gives me something to focus on, and I feel like I am doing something useful here.”

Ben looked down at her affectionately. She was unlike any girl he’d ever met. Most of them had been all simpering maids, swooning at the sight of his uniform – more interested in being seen in the arms of a soldier dressed up smartly than the man himself. Eleanor on the other hand had depth. He was not only drawn to her beauty, but to her sincerity as well.

She chuckled as if remembering something funny. “My father’s original plan was to leave me in Virginia with the housekeeper, but I insisted on going with them. I was not about to let my mother have all the fun.” She winked playfully at Ben.

He chuckled at her lightness.

Frida poked Caleb and raised her eyebrows, subtly jerking her head in the direction of camp. He looked at her with a bemused expression. She rolled her eyes and gestured toward Ben and Eleanor. Caleb’s eyes widened when he saw how close they were sitting, and how the look on Ben’s face was lovesick. Eleanor’s eyes twinkled in much the same manner.

He winked at Frida, and the two of them stood up, linking arms.

“We’re gonna go get some more booze, since Tallboy finished the last of it here,” Caleb said in a mock-accusatory tone.

Ben shrugged, not feeling one bit guilty.

“Also, I think Frida’s soberin’ up, which we can’t have on a night like this,” he continued, kissing her on the cheek. She giggled, and with that, the two of them skipped off singing their sea shanty together.

Ella watched them skip away with a smile on her face.

“They’re perfect for each other, aren’t they?” she said, looking at them until they disappeared entirely.

When she turned her face back to him, she was surprised to see him looking at her so amorously. Her voice trailed off as their eyes briefly met. He gazed at her lips for a moment, then back up at her eyes. They held a lustful look that she’d never seen in him before, and she found herself drawn to it.

He leaned his face closer to hers, so that the tips of their noses were touching.

The next few moments were sort of a blur to her. She felt herself leaning in to close the gap. Her heart was thudding loudly, and she felt a tiny bit lightheaded. It was as if the world around her was spinning, and she and Ben were stationary. Then, their lips met. She closed her eyes, savoring every bit of the moment.

Ben was gentle and sweet. His kiss was light, almost feathery, as if he were afraid of kissing something so precious. She reached up and cupped his cheek, as if to assure him that this was alright. It worked, as he deepened the kiss. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she felt herself melting into his embrace. Their lips moved in perfect harmony, and she marveled at how he could have lips so soft. Just as she was about to deepen the kiss herself, Ben broke away.

She looked at him in disappointment, eyes wide, as if to ask what was wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he said, moving his arm from her waist. “I should not have done that. Miss Eleanor, please forgive my forwardness.”

A deep pink blush spread across her cheeks.

“Major, you do not need to apologize. There is nothing to forgive,” she said, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

His breath caught in his throat at her words.

“You…you mean that?” he asked, genuinely surprised. 

She bit her lip and pretended to be fascinated by the blanket at that moment.

“Every word,” she whispered. He covered her hand with his own.

“If that’s the case, would you permit me another?” he asked timidly.

She flashed him a rather sultry look.

“Nothing would give me more pleasure.”

With that, he tilted her chin up with his fingers and kissed her again. This was much more passionate, and she was a bit taken aback by the change. It was not unwelcome, however, and she kissed him back this time. His hand moved from her chin down to her waist again, and she rested a dainty hand on his chest.

His tongue grazed the top of her bottom lip ever so lightly, as if asking for entry. After a few moments of her relishing the sensation, she acquiesced. This deepened the kiss considerably, as their tongues flitted about. She let out a slight moan at such a pleasurable sensation, and she felt Ben smile through the kiss.

When they broke apart, she smiled up at him and nuzzled her head against his shoulder. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, as if he were afraid to let her go. The two of them were silent, but no words needed to be spoken. The sound of music in the distant camp, the fireworks bursting ahead, and the cicadas of the summer were pleasant enough.

Ella’s heart was still pounding. She could hardly believe what had just happened. She’d wanted this ever since the day he’d rescued her, but she feared it would never happen. Although the Major would sometimes flirt with her, he was mostly shy, and she never imagined he’d work up the courage to kiss her. She thought she was going to have to do it herself soon.

The young Major felt invincible. He could not believe he had finally kissed her! Much less, have her reciprocate his feelings. He was over the moon with giddiness. He could feel his blood rushing through his veins in excitement. So much, he was feeling hot with his coat on.

Cursing inwardly, he detached himself  from Eleanor and removed his coat, but noticed her shiver when away from his body heat.

“Miss Eleanor, do you want my coat?”

She looked at him with her enchanting blue-gray eyes.

“You’re not going to be cold without it?”

He smiled.

“I will be fine without it. The wine and your sweet kisses will keep me warm,” he said with a wink. She giggled as he shed his coat, draping it gently about her shoulders. She was a sight _his_ Continental blue, and he knew it would smell of honeysuckle the next morning.

“Thank you, Major,” she said softly, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. He smiled wickedly before capturing her lips with his own. She giggled through the kiss, ready to melt into his embrace all over again, but they were interrupted by the loud, terrible singing of what sounded like drunken Caleb and Frida.

The two of them quickly broke away, embarrassed that someone had almost caught them. When Caleb plopped down next to them on the blanket, he let out a low whistle and started laughing.

Ella raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“Well, don’t you two look guilty,” he remarked. Frida sat in Caleb’s lap, looking at Ben and Ella with a mischievous expression.

“I have no idea what you mean,” said Ella, looking everywhere but in his direction.

The couple laughed at her quick response. _Guilty as charged_ , Caleb thought.

“Ya don’t, huh?” Caleb said in a mocking tone, eyes twinkling at Ben’s glare. “Look at you! Ya can’t even keep a straight face! Don’t they look guilty, Frida?” he asked his lover’s opinion, his hand resting on her hip.

“You do look like lovesick little puppies,” she agreed.

“Enough, you two!” ordered Ben in a soldier voice, but red as a tomato. This didn’t help Caleb’s laughter at all.

“Enough, he says. Bet ya weren’t sayin’ that a few minutes ago, eh Tallboy?”

Ella blushed even deeper and coughed uncomfortably. Frida noticed the discomfort they were causing, and urged Caleb to tone it down. When his laughter subsided, he straightened his expression and addressed his friend again.

“Look, Ben, it’s all just a bit o’ fun. I’m just glad that you two can finally be around each other without so much awkwardness. We won’t tell anyone, a’right?”

“Thank you, Caleb,” she said, hoping to close this conversation. He winked at her and handed her two bottles of wine. She gave one to Ben, who accepted it gratefully.

“Now, there’s more where those came from. Let’s try and finish those tonight, alright? Miss Eleanor, try and keep up if you can.”

She gasped in mock offense.

“I can do more than just keep up,” she said stubbornly. Caleb chuckled.

“Ya know lass, you can’t outdrink two sailors and a soldier.”

“Is that a challenge, _sir_?”

Caleb howled with laugher. “I like this one, Benny boy. Maybe you should keep ‘er forever.” He winked at the couple earning crimson blushes from both.

The rest of the night was spent with the four of them drinking and jesting. They danced and sang sea shanties, all while waiting for the glorious sunrise.

Ben looked down at Eleanor’s radiant expression and wished this night never to come to end.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Ben woke up just before the sunrise, quietly cursing and rubbing his eyes. He’d had a bit too much to drink the night before, and he was paying for it this morning. The headaches were always the worst part for him.

He felt a body stir beside him and furrowed his brow in confusion. He tried to peel his eyes open, as much as his headache would allow. He surveyed the figure lying next to him and the retrospect of last night’s events crashed his mind like a wave. Last night, Miss Eleanor accompanied Caleb, Frida, and him to this hill to watch the fireworks at night and the sunrise in the morning; and she fell asleep right beside him. The two smugglers were still fast asleep, wrapped tightly in each other’s embrace.

However, it was Miss Eleanor with whom he was fascinated. In the very early rays of the dawn, the sun cast a timid light on her fair face, highlighting her soft features. Her dark red tresses had come undone during last night’s festivities, and now spread about her like a halo. The steady rise and fall of her chest was calming to him somehow. And her lips…he suddenly remembered the most important event of the night. They’d shared a kiss. His heart skipped a beat at that memory, as it all came flooding back to him. He remembered everything—the way she smelled, the feel of her delicate little hands on his shoulders, the taste of the wine on her lips…and he smiled to himself. He thought he would never be able to work up the courage even just to hold her hand.

Hopefully now, the two of them would be less shy around each other. Without thinking, he reached out and gently brushed stray wisps of hair away from her eyes. She stirred again, and those beautiful blue-grey eyes fluttered open.

Ben smiled sheepishly down at her.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” he said quietly.

Eleanor reassured him with a faint smile.

“It’s probably time for us to be up as it is.”

She forced herself to sit up. That was the wrong choice, as her stomach lurched. She didn’t think she’d had _that_ much to drink the night before. But then again, she did remember saying she was going to try and outdrink Caleb, who said it was impossible to outdrink a sailor. Perhaps she’d made the wrong choice there.

She had no idea how some people found this fun, or why they would want to repeat it day after day. Sure, the drinking part had been wonderful, but the after effects…not so much. Her mouth was dry and her head hurt terribly. She even felt a little nauseated, and she dreaded the walk back to the house. She didn’t want to move a muscle.

Ben looked at her with a mixed expression of both amusement and pity. He suspected that this had been her first time drinking heavily, and he wondered if he’d overstepped a boundary.

She groaned again and rested her head between her knees.

“Benjamin?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes, Miss Eleanor?”

“I feel terrible.” The way she said it—so matter-of-factly—made him want to laugh, but he decided that would be insulting. Not to mention he had a terrible headache.

“You did have a lot to drink last night.”

“Did I at least beat Caleb?”

So she remembered that part. He wondered if she remembered anything else, and hoped the booze hadn’t impaired her memory too horribly.

“No one can beat Caleb, Miss Eleanor.”

She groaned again as her stomach turned. This was not how she wanted the morning to go, especially after the events of last night. She remembered every moment, especially Ben’s kiss. He had been so passionate yet so gentle, and she hoped for more of those moments in the future.

She thought about kissing him again, right then and there, but her musings were interrupted by Caleb’s voice.

“So, how long’ve you two been up?” he asked, his wink implying more. Ella was amazed. How did he not feel so terrible? Surely he’d drunk more than she.

“Caleb…please don’t talk so loud,” she said bluntly. Her statement caused him to laugh out loud, waking up a groggy Frida.

“That bad, huh? Don’t worry miss, it’ll get better.”

Both Frida and Caleb laughed at Eleanor’s groaning.

“Tallboy, are ya feelin’ better than the little miss ‘ere?”

Ben shook his head.

“I think our feelings are similar,” he said, looking down at Eleanor. This gaze did not go unnoticed by Caleb and Frida, and the pair smiled gently. At any other time they would have poked fun at the two of them, but it was probably in bad taste to do so now.

“Is there a cure for this?” Ella asked, sitting up and immediately regretting her decision. She felt lightheaded, and her stomach still lurched.

“A greasy breakfast usually does the trick fer me,” Caleb offered. Ella snorted in disgust, expressing a distaste for any kind of food at the moment.

“Black coffee sometimes helps,” Frida chimed in.

Ben rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Only time can help. Miss Eleanor, if you just drink some water and wait a few hours, you should feel much better.”

It was silent for a while as the four of them watched the sunrise together. None of them spoke, and Eleanor would have liked to attribute that to a silent awe of the beauty of the sun, but it really was due to the fact that everyone felt so horrible. At least, that’s what she felt.

She laid her head on Ben’s shoulder again. This felt comfortable and familiar to her, no matter how improper it might be.

After a few more minutes, the Major sighed.

“We should all probably get back to where we need to be,” he said rather dejectedly. Ella nodded against his shoulder.

“My father and mother would be worried sick if they realized I was absent at breakfast.”

Ben wondered what the Commander would think of his daughter spending the night in the woods with an unmarried man. He hadn’t thought of the social repercussions last night, but he was certainly thinking of them now.

The four of them stood up and made ready to leave. Ella hugged both Frida and Caleb goodbye, as the smugglers went their separate way. Frida needed to get back into town, and Caleb insisted on accompanying her.

The walk back to headquarters would have been pleasant, had Ella not felt so nauseated. Little rays of light shone through the trees, and the faint sound of birds chirping made for an ethereal atmosphere.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked, back to his timid self. The previous night, he had been much more confident than usual. Although it had been brought on by artificial means, it had been a rather nice change.

“I’m afraid not, Major. I think I may have overdone it last night.”

He chuckled softly.

“I assume you don’t do things like that very often.”

“No, I…I don’t have many opportunities for such things.”

Ben still had a burning question at the back of his mind. Sometimes, people didn’t remember the night before if they’d had too much to drink, especially if they weren’t used to drinking so much.

“Do you…well…do you remember the events of last night?” He was trying to be delicate, but his words weren’t coming out quite so smoothly.

She caught his meaning, and knew he was referring to their kiss. A light blush spread across her cheeks.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice coming out in a bare whisper. “Every little detail. And I didn’t regret it one bit.”

He smiled, but he was dancing inwardly. She had reciprocated his affections, and he couldn’t be happier.

When they finally reached the edge of the woods near the house, it was time for them to part ways. If someone saw the two of them emerge from the woods together, it would look suspicious and start all sorts of gossip. Ella shuddered to think what Mrs. Miller would say.

“Well…I, hope you feel better very soon,” the Major said quietly.

“Thank you, Major.” 

He turned to head back to camp, but she caught his arm. Words escaped her at that moment as she looked into his warm blue eyes, and she felt her heart patter furiously. His eyes drifted to her lips for a moment before capturing them in a sweet, soft kiss. She placed her hands on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and deepening their kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, he gently brushed her hair back and looked into her eyes again. She had a dreamy look in her eyes, as if she’d just woken up from a good dream.

“I hope to see you later, Major Tallmadge.”

He laughed lightly at her flirtatious words.

“You know, you can call me Benjamin, or Ben, if you’re comfortable with it.”

She nodded her head.

“Of course, Benjamin. And you can call me Eleanor, at least when we’re alone.”

A wide grin spread across his face.

“I look forward to our next meeting, Eleanor,” he said with a bow, taking her hand and kissing it. His eyes remained fixed on hers.

When he walked away, she felt her heart surge. She hadn’t felt this way since her engagement to Tom, and she felt this to be the start of another brighter chapter in her life.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Martha watched the exchange between Major Tallmadge and her daughter through the window. Although she wanted Eleanor to find happiness, her behavior last night had been improper. George had warned her about this, but Martha hadn’t cared at the time.

Now things were more serious. Ella was an unmarried woman, and she’d spent the night with an unmarried man in the woods. She suspected the two of them had been inebriated, as well. And she couldn’t believe how careless her daughter had been. If the two of them had been together intimately, and word of that spread, Ella would be ruined.

 Thankfully, George had gone to bed earlier than she, and didn’t notice that Ella was still out. Martha hoped to keep it that way. She already knew that her husband favored General Arnold more than Major Tallmadge. He didn’t need to know about the events of last night, or that their daughter’s relationship with the Major had escalated into something more than flirtatious remarks.

She watched Ella walk toward the house, near the servants’ entrance. At that moment, Martha hurried up the stairs. She would be waiting in her daughter’s room when she arrived. She desperately needed to have a few stern words with her.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ella was amazed that she’d been able to kiss the Major this morning, feeling the way she did. Her stomach was churning considerably on the way back to the house, and she ended up having to vomit in the garden before going inside. That really destroyed the romantic mood she was in.

When she got into the house, she tiptoed quietly up the stairs. As it was barely dawn, she suspected her parents would be awake soon, and she did not wish to be seen quite yet.

She closed the door to her small bedroom quietly, closing her eyes and exhaling.

“Did you have a lovely time at the party?” came her mother’s voice.

Ella jumped, startled. She hadn’t noticed her mother sitting on her bed.

“Yes…yes, I did. Goodness, mother you startled me.”

Her mother was already awake and dressed for the day. Her hands sat primly folded in her lap, and the expression on her face was rather stony.

“I’m surprised you’re up at this hour, my dear, especially after a night of such merriment.”

Ella’s eyes widened involuntarily. Did her mother know? She hoped not, but she had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Well, I…I thought…I thought I could use a walk in the garden.”

Martha raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“A walk? At the crack of dawn, in the very same gown you wore last night?”

The blood drained from Ella’s face. She’d never been very good at lying.

“I was too tired to undress for bed. I thought perhaps-“

“Eleanor Washington, don’t lie to me. You’ve never been very good at lying. I know what you did last night. I saw you and Major Tallmadge kissing at the edge of the woods just now.”

Her heart pounded in her ears. She hoped she hadn’t caused some scandal already.

“I know you spent the night with him. Eleanor, I am ashamed. I have raised you to be a lady of virtue and honor, and you give all that away on one foolish, drunken encounter.”

Now her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. She hadn’t fully realized the social repercussions this situation would have until her mother voiced them.

“Mother, please. We didn’t…do anything. Benjamin is-“

“Benjamin? You call each other by your Christian names now?”

“Major Tallmadge is a gentleman. He would never…mother, we weren’t together in the way that you’re thinking. I would have known not to do such a thing.”

She believed the truth in her daughter’s words when she said the two of them hadn’t been together intimately. Still, that did not quell her frustration.

“If the Major is a gentleman, why did he lead you by hand into the woods with a bottle of wine?”

Ella clenched her jaw and looked at the floor. This was so much more complicated than she’d wanted it to be.

“I asked him to.”

“Why?”

“It’s a bit of a long story.”

Her mother crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow again.

“I’ve got time to listen.”

A deep sigh escaped Ella.

“General Arnold asked to formally enter into courtship last night, and I refused.”

Martha’s dark eyes widened at this news. Now she understood the reasoning behind her daughter’s behavior, but running off into the woods with a dashing soldier wasn’t the best way to handle the situation.

“Tell me everything,” she said, resting her chin in her hands.

Ella started from the beginning, when Arnold had approached her that evening. She detailed their conversation, how he asked her, what he’d said, and how she’d run away from him and bumped (quite literally) into Major Tallmadge.

Martha listened with grave silence. General Arnold was a hotheaded man, and she didn’t expect this situation to end well. She estimated they had about two days’ time before this gossip circulated the entire camp.

“Well, you certainly can’t tell your father about this yet. He’ll be none too pleased.”

“He’ll know very soon!”

“Yes, but don’t bring it up at breakfast today. I think you’ve caused enough drama already. If your father asks about it, just say nothing happened. I’ll tell him when he’s ready.”

Ella nodded. She was too weary to protest at the moment.

“I think it very odd that General Arnold didn’t propose. I wonder why he asked only to court you, as he seems quite fond of you.”

Her daughter agreed, but she didn’t care to think much of it. If the general had proposed, she doubted she would have handled it gracefully.

Martha informed her that breakfast would be in an hour, and to try and make herself look as presentable as her condition allowed.

Ella shook her head as she began to clean herself up. Sleeping in the woods hadn’t exactly been the cleanest of ideas, and she was finding dirt all over her limbs, and even leaves in her hair.

She touched her lips demurely, as if she still couldn’t believe what had happened. Hopefully there’d be much more of that in her secret relationship with Benjamin.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

“Did you young people have fun last night?” Hilde asked with a sly smile as she poured more coffee for her smugglers. Caleb and Frida sat across the small kitchen table, looking a little worse for wear—Frida more so than Caleb.

Her daughter only groaned in response while he laughed. Hilde looked on her daughter with mocking pity. The poor girl never been quite so good at drinking, despite her Norwegian blood.

“Oh believe me, Mrs. Rolvaag, we had plenty of fun,” said Caleb before downing his second cup of coffee.

Frida groaned again and feebly slapped Caleb’s arm as she laid her head on the table. Food wasn’t going to cure anything today. Hilde ran a hand through her daughter’s fair tresses soothingly.

“Are you alright, _kjære?”_

Frida shook her head with as much strength as she could muster.

“ _Hvorfor snakker du så høyt?”_ Why are you talking so loud?

Caleb didn’t speak as much Norwegian as he would have liked to be able to, but he understood the message enough, and chuckled.

“Frida, I am whispering. Caleb, did you really let her drink that much?”

He knew it was meant in jest, but sometimes Hilde could be intimidating, and he couldn’t tell when she was jesting or not.

“Well ma’am, ya see, she was already pretty tipsy when I found her.” She opened her eyes just in time to see him wink at her, and she snorted in what was supposed to be a laugh. “And it ain’t my fault that she and Miss Eleanor thought they could outdrink me.”

Hilde’s eyes widened at those words.

“Oh Frida!” she said, frowning on her daughter’s behavior. “And you dragged poor Miss Washington into this! Shame on you two,” she said as she began to clear away the dishes.

At least Frida had the decency to blush in embarrassment.

“Don’t be quite so harsh, Mrs. Rolvaag. One good thing did happen after all. Seems Tallboy finally ‘ad the courage to declare himself fer Miss Eleanor, if their looks were anythin’ t’ go by.”

Hilde had heard all about the dashing young dragoon and the commander’s daughter from the two smugglers before. Even before Frida had met Miss Washington, Caleb had at least talked about what a lovesick puppy his friend was. 

“Really? Are you sure that meddling is the best thing to do?” she asked Caleb directly, her piercing green eyes locked onto his brown ones. He’d often teased Frida about having an ancient Viking heritage, but when Hilde asked him questions or assumed command of the shop, they didn’t seem like jokes anymore. He was thoroughly convinced that Hilde Rolvaag was a Viking. Her gaze was certainly fearsome enough. “I know the Major is your friend, but Miss Washington’s parents must surely have their own agenda for their daughter.”

“Mmm, but they look so good together, ma,” Frida countered weakly. “And they both like each other very much. They were simply too shy to admit it, so we thought we would help them on.”

Hilde raised her eyebrows at her daughter’s reasoning.

“You are still a bit drunk, aren’t you Frida?”

Her daughter groaned again.

“No. But I may have slightly overdone it last night.”

This earned a howl of laughter from Caleb, and Frida kept smacking his arm as if to get him to stop. The smile on her face, though tired, still brimmed with amusement. Hilde had often mused that their flirtations made them seem like an old married couple.

That thought had crossed Hilde’s mind often. Frida and Caleb had behaved as lovers for two years, but yet…her daughter was still unmarried. He wasn’t exactly in a position to propose—he had no house and no steady income. He couldn’t offer anything in a marriage, and he knew that full well. He’d never told that to her, but Hilde could sense his shame. So, she did her very best to make him feel welcome and at home. Many a night had passed when he needed somewhere to stay after a smuggling venture, so she’d set up a regular place for him.

Frida looked up at Caleb with her sleepy, half-drunk smile, and he in turn grinned down at her in adoration.

All Hilde wanted was for her daughter to be happy. Wasn’t that what all mothers wanted?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to MimiDubois_1620 for being such a great person! She's left lovely reviews on every chapter and puts up with my life rants, and her TURN story is wonderful. I've bookmarked it- it's called "An Indecent Proposal" and I read most of it in one sitting. 
> 
> Also, some notes...majorstallmadge and I finally did face claims. Our Ella is Adelaide Kane, but with Georgie Henley's hair color. Martha is Hayley Atwell (think of her in The Duchess), Frida is Joanna Vanderham, and Hilde is Cate Blanchett. Face claims always make things more readable for me. Other face claims will come soon as we add more characters.
> 
> Anyways, thank you all so much for reading!


	17. Author's Note

Hello Turncoats, 

When majorstallmadge and I began writing and posting back in May, we were really excited because we got good feedback and people seemed genuinely interested in our story. Then summer ended, and our posts started to get more spaced out because I’m busy, seeing as it’s my last year at university. Lately, the story doesn’t get nearly as much feedback as before. I know this might sound a bit annoying, but I am super busy this year and I’m trying everything possible to keep this story going. I’m not getting any feedback, so it all feels pointless. 

So, I just wanted to know if people are interested in my story or if I am just cluttering the tag. I feel horrible saying this, as Ella is my creation and my little baby, but if no one is interested in what I write, there is no point in continuing The General’s Treasure. And this saddens me because I’ve got great plans for Ella. I write primarily because it makes me happy and it makes other people happy, but now I feel like neither is happening. I was also going to start a new collection of oneshots with a fun AU twist, but now I’m reluctant to post those since there’s been no interest in my other writings. 

Please tell me what you are thinking or feeling. I’d love to hear feedback/input/ideas.


	18. Chapter Sixteen

Eleanor hardly ate anything at breakfast the next day, on account of her stomach feeling so poorly. Her head was pounding, feeling as if someone were inside her skull and hitting a hammer against the bone. How did some of the men do this every week, or every day? She hated feeling this way, and shuddered to think of what it must be like to be a drunk.

When her father took his place at the small table in the kitchen, she felt a tingling of dread spread throughout her body. His expression was more stern than usual, and his eyes seemed harder. _Maybe he’s just having a bad day. Or maybe he received some bad news about the army,_ she thought as he took his place beside her mother at the table.

Martha quietly sipped her coffee and shot a glance at her daughter, as if to tell her not to make matters worse. Ella kept her eyes fixed on the plate before her, suddenly fascinated by the eggs.

“Eleanor,” her father’s deep voice addressed her. She looked up timidly, afraid of what she was going to see. His jaw was set, his arms were crossed over his chest, and she swore she could see a flash of anger in his eyes.

“Yes, Father?”  She tried to keep her voice as even and steady as possible. Her father’s anger could be frightening, and she knew he was holding back his temper.

“We need to talk about your behavior last night.”

She took a deep breath, prepared to defend her actions and fully apologize if need be, but her father cut her off before she could even begin.

“Your mother and I were discussing it this morning. As you can imagine, we are not pleased with your actions.”

Martha’s expression was blank, and she fixed her eyes on the opposite wall, her mouth pursed tightly. He looked at her as if expecting a sympathetic look. She continued staring at the wall. He scowled at this lack of support, but continued on, resolute that his daughter should have from both her parents the gravity of the situation.

“It was irresponsible and foolish of you to lose yourself in drink and run into the woods with another drunken soldier. Your mother tells me she’s spoken with you about the mark this could have on your reputation, so I shall not start on that.”

“Father, I-“

He held up his hand, continuing to speak.

“It is your safety about which I am concerned, Eleanor. Have you forgotten what happened in May?”

Eleanor was dumbstruck as her father brought up that incident. Three drunken soldiers had nearly raped her, and she had fought back with as much strength as she could before Benjamin had rescued her.  She had not even considered her own safety last night—how foolish she felt now.

“You were inebriated last night, and therefore much easier to take advantage of should someone set their mind to it.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, stirring her coffee and avoiding her father’s gaze.

“Eleanor, look at me.”

She forced herself to look up, and was surprised to find that his eyes had softened during the course of their conversation.

“I was of a mind to send you back to Mount Vernon. Jacky would be joining you there, as he is on furlough and would make sure you settled and behaved yourself.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked back and forth at her mother. Seeing her half-brother Jacky would have been fantastic, but she didn’t want to go back home—not now, not after she and Benjamin had finally progressed in their relationship. And to stay home would have been so boring. Molly and Caroline, her usual ladies maids, would keep her cooped up in the house and refused to let her out of her sight. And her governess, Mathilde, had gone the year before. And Billy Lee was here in camp—how lonely she would be once Jacky left. And to leave her all alone—in the place where Patsy died, in the place where she’d found out about Tom’s death—she couldn’t do it.

“Please, Father, don’t-“

He silenced her with one stern look, the one that usually melted people into quivering puddles of tears.

“I have decided against it. The journey back to Virginia would be dangerous, and I would not let you travel by yourself, as I cannot spare any men to accompany you. Instead, you shall stay here, confined to the house. I will set a curfew, and if you are not back by the time I set, I will send you straight back home. If you must leave the house, you will have a chaperone. Understood?”

She could do nothing but nod. Everything her father was saying was completely reasonable, and she suddenly felt silly and small.

“May I speak now, please?” she said, her voice coming out a little more wobbly than she’d wanted.

He nodded.

“I am so sorry for my actions last night. I know I was silly and foolish and that what I...I acted without thinking. And it will not happen again,” she said earnestly, now looking her father in the eye. Better not to mention Benjamin--it was bad enough that her father was angry at her without bringing him into it. For she did intend to spend more time with him--as much as she could manage, even with her father’s new rules. _Oh, chain me to my chair, Father, but don’t make me go where I can’t see Benjamin,_ she thought.

George nodded, satisfied with his daughter’s apology. He had been absolutely furious the night before, and was still angry when he woke up.  His original plan had been to tell Ella at breakfast to pack her things so she could go straight back to Mount Vernon that day, but Martha had pleaded with him to keep her here. It wasn’t right, she argued. Even though Ella had spent what he understood to be a good portion of the night alone in the woods with an unmarried man, it was unfair of him to issue such a harsh punishment based on one night at a party. And it was unsafe, she had added. That had been the most convincing point. Truth be told, he suspected Martha had something else up her sleeve, but he wasn’t going to push it.

Eleanor was his precious little treasure, his only child. Maybe he was too strict at times, but he couldn’t bear to lose her. He’d do anything for his little girl.

\- - - - - - - - - - -  - - -

Ben swore as the razor pricked his cheek. He would have liked to blame his carelessness on a hangover, but really, he was distracting himself with thoughts of Eleanor. He would have preferred them to be pleasant thoughts, but all he could do was worry about her. He hadn’t considered the social repercussions of their dalliance until she mentioned it that morning, and now, it was all he could think about.

Washington would not be pleased with him. In fact, he might even be furious with him. No, scratch that—it was highly likely that he was furious with him. Eleanor was his only child, and Ben cringed to think how last night’s actions may have looked to an outsider. How stupid he was! He’d been so inebriated that he led her into the woods in plain sight of her parents, who would be highly concerned for their daughter’s reputation.

He wondered what sort of punishment would be doled out on him, but really, he was more worried for Miss Eleanor. Would they send her home? Or would they restrict her time out of the house?

He patted his face dry with the towel, then getting himself dressed. He desperately needed to talk to someone. Caleb would be of no help, and would probably just say something unhelpful, then laugh that stupid jolly laugh of his. And Hamilton had been gone for a while, doing various tasks for Washington all along the northeastern coast. That left only Mr. Sackett. Ben sighed and gathered his things, heading to the little spy barn on the edge of camp. Hopefully the wily old man would be in there, tinkering with some new gadgets, able to offer some sage counsel.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You look as if you could use a drink,” Mr. Sackett remarked on seeing Ben’s scowling face.

Ben shook his head.

“I had enough last night,” he muttered. The older man chuckled.

“The party was to your liking, then? And the _company_ was agreeable?” he asked, wriggling his eyebrows as he placed emphasis on the word ‘company.’

“Very much so. But I actually came to seek your advice,” he said, his tone a bit more urgent. Usually he appreciated Mr. Sackett’s wit, but really, he wasn’t in the mood for joking.

Mr. Sackett pushed up his glasses, stuck his pipe in the corner of his mouth, and looked intently at Ben.

“Go on.”

Ben huffed. He could tell that the old man was humoring him, but at least he was willing to listen.

“Suppose a young man…did something he regretted while drunk…”

Sackett shot him a knowing look, but reserved comment. 

Ben continued the story, speaking in hypotheticals as he went. Mr. Sackett was not stupid, and he probably understood that this story was about him and not the anonymous friend for whom he’d so feebly made his case, but at least Sackett was listening. And it felt right to confess.

"Suppose," he began again, trying to choose his words very carefully. "Suppose a young man was at a party, given by a...a good family of the neighborhood, and that this young man took one of the family's daughters...away from the party for a time."  Sackett's brow rose, but the man himself said nothing. "And suppose that the young lady's father saw this happen."

"Yes, go on," Sackett said, his eyes fixed, patiently, on his young student.

Ben swallowed, nervous. "And let us also say that...the two of them stayed out...a rather long while. In the dark. Where no one could see."

“Oh dear,” the spymaster replied, his expression as inscrutable as ever, peering at Ben over the tops of his glasses, “This is a pickle, isn’t it?”

"Yes, sir, it...it is."

“So, what is it that we are discussing here about your...hypothetical young friend?” Sackett asked.

“How to proceed, sir,” Ben said, feeling foolish that this question, this simple question should be so difficult to answer. “The young man is wondering what he should do, what is...honorable or moral for him to do. Should he...offer to marry her, to save her reputation, or apologize to her father for his wrong-doing, or...stop seeing her all together?

“It sounds to me like your young man should have thought about this a little more last night,” Sackett said plainly, adjusting his spectacles and steepling his fingers together in thought. “Well, what options does your young friend have? You’ve given some already -- consider each.  Apologizing to her father? Solves nothing and creates strife with the gentleman -- an apology does not fix his daughter’s reputation. Stop seeing the lady? It leaves her alone when she needs help the most, which helps no one and, I think, leaves your young friend out, too, since he evidently cares for the girl a great deal.”

“And the third option, sir?” Ben asked, truly wondering what Sackett would say.

“The third option? Oh, yes, marriage. Well, that is a little extreme. The church will tells us that it is an honorable and generous estate, endowed by God, but they leave little room in that speech for the practical considerations of a marriage. Monetary support, for example -- I imagine your young friend’s family is not presently in a position to support the young lady, were they to marry. She should have to stay with him. Your friend will have to decide what the lady is worth to him. And that I cannot help him with.”

“No, you can’t,” Ben mused under his breath.

He was, as Mr. Sackett had put it earlier, in quite the pickle. Abandoning Eleanor would solve nothing, and he did not like the thought of her plunging into depression on his behalf.

He wanted desperately to wrap her in his arms and kiss her and assure her it was alright, but he didn’t know if it was going to be alright, and he wasn’t sure if kissing her would be so wise right now.

Perhaps it would be best to leave it alone for a day, and let the excitement die down. Everyone’s nerves were sure to be on high alert right now, and he was unwilling to feed the fire.

Oh, how he hated waiting.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

~two days later~

Martha walked through the house in a frenzy. Eleanor had taken her hairbrush earlier that day, and hadn’t yet returned it. She’d forgotten her own when she’d been packing her things for the camp. Martha marveled at how her daughter could forget the most basic of items, but she could sort of understand. The whole announcement had been rather sudden and they hadn’t much time to pack.

Eleanor’s tiny little room was at least neat. That was new. Usually her room at Mount Vernon was littered with lace and fabrics and books and other little trinkets, but this room was much smaller. She supposed she didn’t really have a choice here in Morristown.

Right now, her daughter was out helping with the laundry and the mending, surrounded by that gaggle of ladies. She wondered how her daughter was faring, and hoped Mrs. Miller wasn’t being too forward again. Martha was perfectly fine with gossip, and indulged in it herself sometimes, but Mrs. Miller was horrid. She reveled in creating rumors to destroy people’s reputations. She would have to talk to her about that soon.

Martha rifled through her daughter’s trunk, trying to locate the infernal object, when a stack of letters caught her eye. She sat down, back against, the wall, as she looked through all of them, addressed to “My Dearest Eleanor.” Her heart pounded in her ears as she traced the handwriting with a fingertip. This…this was…it was Tom’s handwriting. Her hands were trembling as she leafed through the dog-eared and faded letters. It was evident that Eleanor had read these often, and she wondered if she still did.

The most worn one was dated in June of 1775, reading:

_My Dearest Eleanor,_

_It is from afar that I write to you, my angel. So many fears and troubles need to be added to the already intense sorrow to be separated from everything which is dearest to me. How did you deal with my second departure? Do you love me less for it? Have you forgiven me? Did you consider that in any case I had to be separated from you, as well? These thoughts did not stop me from feeling an awful emotion during the terrible moments which separated me from your embrace._

_It is unnerving here in the northern colonies, as the enemy is everywhere to be seen. We expect raids almost daily here at our meager outpost. Several of the men have fallen ill, and I fear that I will join them soon. I had rather hoped to write you of some heroic deeds, but there is not much here to be done, except drink, play draughts, and pray that not another one of us falls ill._

_But I should not worry you with such horrible details. Instead, let us talk of happier things. I eagerly await the day that you and I can finally be united in holy matrimony. I know two years seems especially long, and I wish I could say that the time is passing quickly, but it is not. Every moment I am separated from you prolongs the agony, and makes two years seem like two centuries. My only consolation is that this wait will make our reunion all the sweeter._

_As much as I would like dwell on thoughts of you, and point out each and every beautiful little part of you, it seems I am being summoned to my duties, and I must go._

_O Eleanor, I am tenderly, passionately, faithfully yours, forever,_

_Thomas Ashford_

Tears streamed down Martha’s cheeks as she read through this letter. It seemed to be the last time he’d written to her, for just two months later, they were notified of his death. Tom had been so madly in love with her—he’d proposed when Eleanor was only sixteen, making him merely twenty—but George said the wedding would have to wait until Eleanor was eighteen. The two had protested vehemently, but George was not going to budge. Eventually they were alright with the idea of a prolonged engagement, and they set the date for the winter of her eighteenth birthday.

Tom—or Lieutenant Thomas Ashford—was the son of a nearby wealthy landowner. The Ashfords were close friends of the Washingtons, and the two families had hosted many dances and dinner parties over the years. Mrs. Ashford and Martha always though Eleanor and Thomas would be together, no matter how the children denied it. and how sweet the two of them were as children.

_Tom and Ella giggled exuberantly as they twirled about the room, not paying attention to the actual steps of the dance. Martha had spoken with her daughter about this behavior before, but now she was exasperated, and ready to give up. It was nearly the end of the lesson, and all the young men and young ladies were tired of these lessons. As one of the wealthiest ladies in Virginia, Martha felt it her duty to give back to the community somehow. Many of the smaller homes could not afford to educate their children in finer arts, so Martha hired a dance master to teach the children how to properly behave themselves at a ball._

_Tom and Ella were doing just the opposite. They’d started out well enough, him bowing and her curtsying, and the two of them did the minuet beautifully (and at ages ten and fourteen, that was impressive to her), but now, they discarded all sense of manners. They whirled about the room, spinning in crazy patterns while the other children laughed in amusement. Ella’s wide smile and Tom’s toothy grin melted Martha’s heart, and she so hated to stop their fun. But, the dance master was losing his cool, and Martha knew she would have to put an end to this soon._

_After a stern lecture, the children apologized most sincerely. Martha knew they probably didn’t mean their words, but she wasn’t going to push it._

_Once the drawing room had been cleaned up and all the furniture put back into place, she breathed a sigh of relief. Tom and Ella had gone outside, down by the river. They were always playing in the water when they had a free moment—they could hardly be kept away from it._

_At dinner, Ella’s smile was so wide that it almost spilt her face in two._

_“My dear little treasure, what has you so happy today?” Martha asked._

_Ella’s voice had been so chirpy and bouncy as a ten year old—Martha would forever remember that sweet phase._

_“Tommy’s going to make a boat for me, and we’re going to race them on the river,” she answered brightly._

_“A boat?” George asked, his eyebrows raised._

_“Yes! He’s going to make a wooden boat so we can race them and pretend to be pirates.”_

_“Can I make a boat?” Jacky asked from his place across the table._

_“Yes! We can all make boats! You too, Patsy! Would you like to play pirates with me and Tommy?” Ella asked, gently patting her half-sister’s arm._

_“Can I be captain?”_

_“No, I’m captain!” Jacky cried insistently._

_“No, Tom is captain! He told me so! And I’m first mate!”_

_Jacky muttered under his breath about wanting to be captain, earning him a stern look from George. After the stern expression melted away, he smiled softly at Martha from across the table, who mouthed a soft ‘I love you’ to her husband. George smiled. This was all he had ever wanted in life._

Martha dabbed her eye with the corner of her apron, not having a handkerchief on her. Little Eleanor had been such a joy to raise. When she turned into a young woman, however, matters had become much different. Eleanor was known for being rather flirtatious, and she had unintentionally made many a young man wild for her. None, however, would compare to Tom. Tom had gone abroad to Oxford for university when he was fifteen, leaving Ella alone for four years. Well, she wasn’t completely alone, but it was obvious that she missed Tom. They had been best friends almost since birth.

Upon returning from university, Tom had changed. He was no longer a mischievous little boy, causing trouble down by the river with Ella. Instead, he had become quite the accomplished young man, turning that mischief into a devilish, rakish charm. But he had also come back with a new sense of duty, a strong sense of duty, and a newfound patriotism for the American colonies. Apparently, he had been the subject of disdain at university, being from the colonies, and he was upset at how flippantly the English treated their own.

So, he enlisted in the Continental army, much to the chagrin of his parents, who thought it a waste of his good talents (and of his Oxford tuition), but his sense of duty was obvious to all who beheld him. A lowly foot soldier, he rose quickly to the rank of Lieutenant, and that was when he had made his proposal.

He’d asked George immediately afterward, and what an occasion that had been. The poor boy was quaking in his boots at the prospect of talking to the Commander in Chief about taking his daughter’s hand in marriage. His usually handsome face had been stricken with worry, and his hazel eyes had looked scared.  But, he was beaming with joy once he had obtained George’s blessing.

Ella had hardly been able to contain her excitement. Martha closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, remembering that momentous occasion.

_Tom closed the door behind him, his expression blank. Ella rose from the sofa, her blue-grey eyes wide with anticipation._

_“Are we…” she asked, her voice trailing off breathlessly._

_Tom couldn’t keep his blank look any longer, and broke into a grin._

_“My dearest Eleanor, soon I shall be calling you my own Mrs. Ashford,” he said. Eleanor squealed and ran to him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He picked her up and whirled her about the room, kissing her gently when he finally set her down. If this were another time, perhaps she would scold them, but her daughter was getting married! She could allow them happiness for a time._

_“Congratulations, my darlings!” she said, rising from her place on the sofa to embrace the both of them._

_“We ought to pick a date soon! Oh, there’s so much to do now! And in so little time!”_

_Lieutenant Ashford was on furlough for a bit, but the marriage could not take place during this time._

_“Actually, my love, we need to talk about that,” he said, suddenly a bit more dejected than before._

_She looked at Tom with concern, holding his hand and leading him to sit down next to her._

_“We can’t get married for some time. Your father would like you to be of age before that happens.”_

_Ella looked absolutely crestfallen. “But…”_

_Tom put a finger to her lips, shushing her._

_“I know it’s a long time to wait, but at least we will be together. And I’ll come to visit you at every free time I have,” he said earnestly, kissing her hands._

_She nodded in understanding, her face brightening at each kiss._

_“I’m not sure if I can wait that long,” she whispered._

_“I know. I think it will be difficult, too, but I would wait a thousand lifetimes for you if I had to.”_

_Martha resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but she understood. Tom and Ella were incredibly romantic people, and they often spoke to each other in flowery, poetic language._

_“I love you, my dearest.”_

_“And I you,” she whispered, now kissing his hands._

_Oh, how sweet they were. She couldn’t wait to help them set up their own house and have little grandchildren for her to dote on. How exciting this all was!_

Then the bad news struck.

_Martha found Eleanor sitting at the desk in her room, writing a letter to Tom. There was a dreamy look in her eyes, and it tore Martha’s heart in half. What she was about to tell her daughter would be devastating news indeed, and that dreamy look in her eyes would be extinguished._

_“Eleanor? Mr. and Mrs. Ashford are downstairs, and they wish to speak to you.”_

_“Is it wedding details? If so, I’ll have to tell Mrs. Ashford I haven’t made much progress. There’s not much to do when the date is so far away…” her voice trailed off when she noticed the pained expression on her mother’s face, which was white as a sheet. She could tell that something horrible had just happened, and if it had to do with Tom, she was sure she would scream and fling herself out the window._

_“I’m afraid it isn’t about the wedding. Please come downstairs; they’re waiting.”_

_Ella put down her quill and somberly followed her mother down the stairs, their ruffling silks being the only sound in the quiet house. Jacky had gone off to fight, and Patsy had died two years earlier, leaving the once lively house quite empty._

_Mrs. Ashford sat in the drawing room, looking elegant as usual, only dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Mr. Ashford sat next to his wife, rubbing her back soothingly. The both of them looked like they hadn’t slept in ages—dark circles hung below their eyes, and Mrs. Ashford’s were red from crying. She held a letter in her trembling hands. Ella’s heart thudded in her ears, and she felt as if all the blood were draining from her body. A sense of dread crept up on her, from her toes to the nape of her neck. Something horrible had happened, she was sure._

_“Eleanor, will you please sit down?” Mrs. Ashford asked, her voice coming out in no more than a hoarse whisper. Ella did as asked, and she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder, as if to soothe her._

_“I have some…horrible news. News about Thomas,” she said, her voice breaking at his name._

_Ella gripped the arm of the chair so tightly her knuckles were turning white._

_“Thomas is…he’s…” and suddenly Mrs. Ashford burst into tears. Her mother’s grip on her shoulder tightened. Mr. Ashford rubbed his wife’s back as he took the letter from her hands and gave it to Eleanor._

_“Eleanor, I’m afraid Thomas is no longer with us.”_

_Ella couldn’t believe her ears. Her Thomas, dead? She hadn’t exactly heard from him in a few weeks, but she thought nothing of it, as she imagined he didn’t have much time for letter writing._

_“No…no, no, no, that can’t be true!” she exclaimed, her voice rising._

_“It is, sadly. The letter explains it all,” said Mr. Ashford, gesturing to the paper._

_Ella scanned the letter quickly, her hopes plummeting at every word. So it was confirmed. Lieutenant Thomas Ashford, her future husband, was dead. She would never get to see him again._

_Her hands shook as she dropped the paper on the carpet, looking back up at Mr. and Mrs. Ashford._

_“Dead…” she whispered. She felt the anger and the sorrow and the disbelief well up in her like vomit, and suddenly, she was on her feet and running out of the house. She was vaguely aware of her mother’s voice calling her from the veranda, of the hot tears that streamed down her face, of the feel of the grass beneath her feet as she kicked off her shoes in order to run faster. She wasn’t looking to where she was running, but her feet knew. She was down at their spot by the river, by the old crumbled brick remains of what must have been a boathouse back in the day. Her father had always meant to get rid of it, but never did, so it became the designated meeting place for her and Tom. It was here that they had shared their first kiss, in the autumn, after a pleasant walk down by the water…She flung herself down on the grass, and cried deep, gut wrenching, heart cleaving sobs. She only took a break to vomit, and then she cried more, until she cried herself to sleep._

_She didn’t know how she got back home, or how she ended up in her nightdress, in her own bed, the next morning. What she did remember was how angry she felt, how angry and how empty. She woke up and padded over to her desk, where the unfinished letter to Tom still sat. In a fury, she shoved the writing desk off the table, screaming and crying and tearing the letter to bits._

_Footsteps clattered up the stairs, and her mother stood in the doorway to survey the scene. Her daughter was sobbing horribly, sitting on the floor, nightdress stained by ink, surrounded by papers and the broken glass of the inkwell. Martha motioned for the maid to clean it up while she rushed to her daughter’s side, cradling her in her arms as if she were a small child again._

_Ella struggled against her mother’s embrace, screaming that she needed to be alone again, but she was unwilling to let her daughter go._

_“No! Let me be! I need to be alone! I need to be alone,” she said, conceding and slumping against her mother, her sobs becoming less heart wrenching and more long, sad wails._

_Martha stroked her daughter’s hair and kissed her forehead, unsure of what to say or do. She’d lost her husband Daniel when she was young, so she thought she’d be able to impart some advice or wisdom to her daughter, but she found herself incapable of words. She promised herself that she’d be the strong one, that she wouldn’t cry in front of her child, but she failed. Soon, she found herself crying with her daughter._

_What a sight the two of them must have made, sitting on the floor surrounded by debris, crying like babies. After some time, Ella tired herself out._

_“Mother, please. I need to be alone,” she said quietly, her voice hollow. Martha nodded._

_“If you need me, I can be here within a moment,” she whispered, kissing her daughter’s forehead once more._

_Ella didn’t come downstairs for four whole days. During that whole time, she stayed cooped up in her room, occasionally bursting out into tears. When she finally emerged, she was clad in her darkest clothes as a sign of mourning, as a sad, empty hollow of her former self. Of course she had been depressed at Patsy’s death, but this was much different, and her depression seemed deeper. The sparkle that usually brightened her eyes was completely gone, replaced by a haggard, dull look. Her cheeks looked hollow and sharper, and over the course of the next few weeks, she dropped so much weight that it became concerning. She’d lost interest in all her old hobbies, and if she attempted to play the spinet or the harpsichord, it was only dark, solemn dirges. This sort of behavior continued into the winter. After the new year, she seemed to have brightened, but she wasn’t herself. Martha could tell that Ella was forcing herself to be extroverted, to be flirtatious, to be her old self, but it felt unnatural. Everyone could see that Ella was trying, that she was only a shell of what she used to be, and that made her situation all the worse._

_Martha desperately wished she could help her daughter, but only time could heal the deep gashes in her heart._

“Mother? Mother, where are you? Some of the ladies are asking for you and I can’t seem to—“ Ella froze in her tracks when she saw her mother sitting on the floor, teary-eyed and surrounded by Tom’s old letters. “Mother…”

Martha sniffed and tried to regain her composure and stand up, but Ella was at her side in a moment.

“I’m so sorry, my jewel. I was looking for my hairbrush when I stumbled upon these. I didn’t know you kept them.”

Eleanor nodded dejectedly.

“I…I couldn’t bring myself to burn them. It didn’t feel right.”

Martha looked pityingly at her daughter, whose expression had considerably darkened.

“I understand, but it does no good to dwell on what no longer is.”

“I know. But I didn’t know what else to do with them.”

“Eleanor, you have to burn them. ‘Tis proper. You need to let go of this pain.”

The poor girl looked as if she would cry, so Martha gathered the letters and hastily stood up, bringing her daughter with her.

“I can’t do it, Mother. It feels wrong, like I’m angry at him.”

“I know. But he is gone, and you need to let him go for good, my love. You need to get rid of these somehow.”

Ella took the letters from her mother’s hands, touching the ink with a gentle finger. What could she do with them? Suddenly, she had an idea.

“I know what to do,” she said resolutely, turning on her heel and leaving the room.

“Eleanor, you need a chaperone! Wait, let me come with you! My dear, what are you doing?” she asked as she followed her daughter through the house and to the back door that led to the garden. Ella stuffed the letters in her pocket and picked up a spade leaning against the white picket fence.

“I know it goes against father’s rules to be alone for this, but please, let me do this myself.”

The look in her eyes was determined and strong, causing Martha’s own eyes to soften.

“Will you at least tell me what you’re planning to do?”

“Why, I’m going to bury them by the river,” she said simply, as if it were the solution to all her problems. Martha nodded. If it would help her, she wasn’t going to stop her.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sun blazed overhead, beaming down hotly on Ella’s back as she struggled with the spade. This had been much more difficult and much more emotional than she’d originally thought.

But, then again, she was burying a big part of her life. She was laying to rest a past that could no longer be her future, and it was time for her to let it go. She would always have the memory of Tom, but physically keeping these letters was weighing her down. It tugged at her heartstrings and made her feel guilty about her relationship with Benjamin. She still hadn’t told him about Tom, and that had always tugged at the back of her mind. She wondered what he would think of her if he could see her right now. Would Tom want this for her? She was sure he would. After all, her happiness had always been his goal. Memories whirled through her mind at that moment: Tom stealing her doll when she was five, dancing wildly at etiquette lessons when they were ten, playing pirates on the water around the same time, swimming during the summer, stealing kisses down by the riverbank, his proposal, her happiness, his death…

And suddenly, she was crying. She didn’t want this to happen—she’d certainly caused enough drama the past few days, and she didn’t want any now. She was sad about Patsy and Tom’s deaths, upset about how foolish she’d been two days earlier, and angry that her soft little hands were blistered from so much digging.

She gave up and plopped to the ground, burying her face in her knees. She remained like that a few moments before she heard a gentle voice calling her name.

“Eleanor? Are you alright?”

It was Ben. Oh, lovely. Although her heart usually would have leapt at the prospect of seeing him, it didn’t today. She didn’t want him to see her disheveled and crying and generally looking awful. It felt vulnerable, and she didn’t want to scare him away just yet.

She quickly scrambled up, almost toppling over in the process, but he caught her gently by the arm. His blue eyes were filled with concern as he studied her face.

She shook her head.

“I would like to say that everything is fine, but as you can see, it’s not. How did you find me?” she asked, wiping her forehead on her sleeve in a feeble attempt to hide her tear-stained face.

“Your mother told me you might be down here. May I ask what you’re doing?”

She heaved a sigh, involuntarily pressing her head to his chest.

“I’m afraid you’ll think less of me if I do.”

He craned his neck to look directly at her.

“I highly doubt it.”

She took a deep breath before launching into the story of her and Thomas Ashford. Benjamin listened intently, occasionally asking questions, his brow furrowed in thought. Once she had finished her tale of woe, she took a deep breath and sat down next to her letters and spade.

“You must think me very silly now.”

He smiled ruefully and shook his head.

“Not in the slightest. I think what you’re doing is very brave.”

She looked at him with a quizzical expression.

“You think it brave of me to bury letters from a man I almost married?”

“No, I think it’s brave of you to let go of someone who was such a significant part of your life for so long. It’s no easy task.”

He stood up, taking off his Continental blue and laying it on the ground. Ella instinctively picked it up and held it, as if to keep it from getting any dirtier. He picked up the spade and began to dig.

She made no motion to stop him, feeling too weak and sad to protest anyway.

“Do you know from experience?” she asked, curiously.

A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as he seemed to remember something.

“I do, to be honest. I was once in love, or so I thought.”

Ella was a little shocked at his statement, as she’d thought she had been the first person he actually loved, but then again, Benjamin was a handsome man. It wasn’t like he could stay a bachelor for very long.

“Her name was Penelope Rowe,” he continued, striking the ground a little harder at mentioning her name.

“What happened?” Ella asked, fingering the buttons on his coat and not looking up.

“She left me,” he said with a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

“I’m so sorry.”

He waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t be. She was a silly thing, anyway. I had just graduated from Yale, and I was new in Wethersfield. I’d already taken a post as schoolmaster, as you know. I was happy—I had my students, a bit of money to live on, and I met Penelope at a dinner party one evening. She was beautiful,” he said, recalling to his mind her pretty fair face and blonde tresses.

“So what happened?” Ella urged.

“Penelope was a fine lady, and she relished attention. She was used to finer things and such, and I couldn’t give them to her. She was very much in love with me until she realized that schoolmasters aren’t paid very well, and she wouldn’t be able to buy new dresses every season. So,” he paused as he dug around a particularly difficult root, “she left me for a physician. Claimed it would give her stability, and the life she really wanted. I couldn’t blame her.”

Ella listened with sympathy. How could any woman spurn a man like Benjamin? He was so honest, so passionate, so devoted, intelligent…she could have gone on with the adjectives.

“Benjamin, that’s horrible,” she said, a twinge of remorse creeping into her voice.

He wiped his brow with his sleeve.

“It was, and it took some time for me to come to terms with it, but it had to be done. I had to put it behind me, though I never buried her letters beside a river,” he said wryly.

She blushed and smiled as he extended a hand and helped her up.

“She’s married now, to that physician. And she’s happy.”

Ella nodded, still holding his hand.

“I’m sorry she broke your heart, though.”

He smiled down softly at her.

“You have to break some hearts and have your own broken a few times before you realize what it is you really want.” _And you are really what I want, Eleanor,_ he wanted to add. But he didn’t. He hadn’t taken any of Sackett’s advice, deciding instead wait until tempers and tongues cooled.

“That’s the truth,” Ella said sardonically.

“C’mon. Let’s bury these letters and get you back to headquarters.”

Ben helped her cover the letter with dirt, and he even fashioned a cross out of twigs. She was able to tie it together with a stray strand of yarn she found in her pocket. Being the gentleman he was, he turned away as she said a few words to commemorate Tom. She expected to cry after the ordeal, but she didn’t. She was actually amazed at her own strength, and she emerged from the woods with newfound strength and vitality. She would always remember her Tom, but she felt as if she had finally let go of the past, and was now able to focus on the bright future ahead of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for waiting so long! I am happy to say that I have emerged victorious from my undergraduate research project, and I'm glad to be done with it. Unfortunately I've got another one this semester, though it won't be quite as strenuous. And I graduate in May! Aaaaah!
> 
> Anyway, in this chapter, we learn a little bit more about Ella as a person, and I hope it adds a bit more depth to her. And, we learn a little more about Ben, or what may have happened during his years in Wethersfield. If any of you have got other headcanons, I'd love to hear them. Oh, also, I drew inspiration for Tom's letter from Lafayette, who wrote a particularly sad letter to Adrienne in June of 1777. That boy could write.
> 
> Huge thank you to Mimi, who has encouraged me to continue this story and who has been such a wonderful friend these past few months. I've bookmarked her story "An Indecent Proposal," so check it out. Also huge thank you to MercuryGray, who has had to put up with my whining and bitching and horribly romantic sensibilities. She also has proofread much of what I write, and given me great ideas. All her stories come highly recommended--especially "Once More to Part From you." Please go check her out, she's lovely. 
> 
> Until then, I hope you all liked the chapter, and I hope to be posting more regularly now!


	19. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse my French (literally), as I am rather out of practice and haven't spoken in a while. I had to rely heavily on translation apps. 
> 
> Also, my face claim for Lafayette is Brian Wiles, of course, and my face claim for Hamilton is Dan Stevens in Sense and Sensibility.

~ Late August, 1777~

The month of July passed slowly, like molasses in the wintertime. Usually the summer sun slows everyone’s movements, making them lazier and generally more unwilling to move, but the opposite rang true for the inhabitants at Morristown.

It was expected that a battle would take place very soon, and the campaign looked as if it would head to New York. In addition, there were rumors that a French ambassador, a nobleman, had arrived in the colonies and was chomping at the bit to fight for the American side. If this nobleman was willing to fight, then perhaps he could convince France to aid the Americans in their fight. It was all very exciting, and Eleanor was glad she was at the center of it all, instead of watching the fight from afar in Mount Vernon.

Unfortunately, rumors of a French alliance were not the only rumors flurrying through camp. Since Eleanor had buried Tom’s letters, she found herself more lighthearted, more positive, and more herself, which was to say, flirtatious and romantic. She was slowly brightening, like a wilting flower finally coming to life after being watered, or a pencil sketch finally being filled in with color. Her eyes were brighter, her cheeks were rosier, and she generally looked much healthier than she had in quite some time. But, with this change came consequences.

Every free chance she could get, Eleanor snuck away from her chaperones to see her soldier. They’d gone riding together several times, and when Benjamin was in the house, he would steal a few minutes to watch her play pianoforte or even play a silly duet with her.

Today was one of those free days, and it found her in the little spy barn, all alone with her dragoon.

He’d been sitting behind Sackett’s desk, working on paperwork of some sort when she arrived. She wanted to ask if it had to do with his network of spies, but he’d brushed it away so quickly that she didn’t have time to ask.

“We really need a better place to meet,” she said, closing the large wooden door and locking it behind her. She loved this place, truly, but it was out of her way, and so far from the house. It would be very easy for someone to spot her and escort her back to the house. What would her father say? What excuse could she give?

Ben smirked.

“I suppose you don’t find the musty old smell or the small armory in here very romantic,” he said, his voice teasing.

“On the contrary, I find it perfectly romantic. It’s just farther away from the house than I would like,” she answered rather dejectedly.

“Well, I can’t exactly throw pebbles at your window at night. Your father’s guards would chase me off,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it gallantly.

She giggled at the thought.

“Still. If I’m caught here alone, the consequences might be tragic.”

“But you aren’t alone. You’re with me,” he said, pulling her down so that she sat perched upon his knee. She looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. She’d never sat on his lap before, and she wondered if it were improper. Oh, of course it was improper. Ladies didn’t sit on gentleman’s laps unless they were…of an unsavory character. But she was intrigued. Ben’s eyes were searching hers at the moment, as if he were wondering the very same thing.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, signaling that it was alright.

He smirked again as their lips met, light and sweet. Eleanor was always so timid when they began, as if she were testing the boundaries. Her lips moved softly against his, as gentle as butterfly wings, until he deepened the kiss, opening her mouth and practically worshiping her bottom lip.

She sighed with pleasure when they broke apart, causing him to chuckle.

“What are you laughing about?” she asked, her fingertip gently tracing the epaulet on his shoulder.

“Nothing, my Cytherea. I just like it very much when you give in like that.”

A deep pink blush spread across her cheeks and collarbone, creating pleasant little goosebumps on what was visible of her bosom. Never had he been with a woman who reacted quite so well to his touch.

“Should I make things more difficult for you, my own Adonis?” she asked, resting her forehead against his. The slight movement caused her bosom to press a little closer to his chest, and he couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at the lovely sight. Evidently she noticed his action, and giggled again.

“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you?” she remarked.

“I have a beautiful maiden sitting on my lap kissing me pink. Your very presence already makes things difficult,” he said, hoping he sounded flirtatious rather than accusing. And really, sometimes her pretty cupid bow lips and perfect bosom made it very difficult for him to focus at the most inopportune times.

“It’s not my fault you can’t resist me,” she retorted playfully, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“You have absolutely bewitched me,” he murmured through their next kiss. She only laughed softly in response.

Their tongues flitted about as they both deepened the kiss. Ella felt herself melting into his embrace, relishing every single detail of this moment—the feel of his hands at her waist, the wool of his blue coat, the smell of hay and wood and old books, and the taste of his lips…

Then suddenly, his lips were not on hers anymore. They traveled across her jaw and down to her neck. She sighed louder than she wanted, but that didn’t discourage Ben. He only smirked against her skin, then tracing little designs with his tongue. And then she was aware that his hand was no longer at her waist, but pawing gently at her bosom. And then his mouth found that sweet little spot on her neck, just below her ear. She inhaled sharply at the sensation. If he continued like this, she was going let out a most unladylike noise. Her hands clung to his shoulders fiercely, as if she were holding on for dear life. She shouldn’t be this wanton. She shouldn’t be enjoying it this much, but she was.

She couldn’t stand it anymore—she let out a soft, sensual moan at the sensation. He ceased his kissing for a moment, his hand sliding back down to her waist. He looked at her in surprise and amusement, but poor Eleanor was far from amused. She immediately realized her mistake, and tried to unwrap herself from his embrace.

“I…I’m so sorry. That was entirely inappropriate. I should not have…I’m not sure what came over me…you must think so little of me now…”

She looked as though she might cry, and smoothed back her hair with a calming hand as if to prevent any possible tears.

“No, no, my sweet, why would I?”

“Because…that’s not what ladies do…” she said, looking away from him in shame.

He patted her knee reassuringly.

“Ella, please look at me.”

She turned her head back toward him reluctantly, her bottom lip slightly sticking out in a pouty expression. If the situation weren’t so upsetting at the moment, he’d seize the opportunity to worship that lip again. But now, he needed to calm his lover.

“It’s perfectly fine for you to react that way when being kissed. And to be honest, I rather liked it,” he said, his voice warm and soothing.

“You’re quite sure?” she asked, still pouting.

“Yes. I like it very much,” he said.

“I just…I don’t want you to think me too easy a catch. Or too forward.”

He smiled and cupped her cheek with his hand, his thumb brushing gently on her bottom lip. “I would never think that.”

With those words, he drew her in for a deep kiss, as if to console her. She was reluctant at first, but she eventually gave in, convincing herself that he was right. Their amorous activities were short-lived, however, as a low whistle sounded from the end of the barn.

Shocked at being discovered, the pair broke apart and froze their gaze on the figure in the barn. Thankfully it was only Caleb. Or was that something to be thankful about? The smuggler had a devious grin on his face, and she knew he was enjoying this moment. It must have looked quite compromising—Ella on Ben’s lap, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, one of his hands on her waist and the other on her thigh—oh dear, this was such a pickle.

The jolly bearded man chuckled again. “Well, well, well, looks like you two’re havin’ yerselves a lovely time.”

Both of their faces turned a marvelous shade of crimson. Ella was too embarrassed to look at him, and instead buried her face in Ben’s shoulder.

“Caleb, I…we…this isn’t what it looks like…”

Caleb guffawed.

“Oh-ho, but isn’t it? Don’t let me interrupt. If the two’a you are getting hot and heavy, I can come back at another time—“

“Caleb,” Ben protested, sensing that Ella wasn’t too pleased at the moment. She was desperately trying not to cry, at least audibly, but hot tears of embarrassment were already sliding down her cheeks.

“I have to leave,” she declared, hastily removing herself from his embrace running out of the barn.

“Eleanor, please, wait! He doesn’t mean—“

Caleb caught him just before he reached the door.

“Ben, let ‘er go. You’ll only make it worse.”

The smuggler’s eyes held a warning, but the soldier wasn’t ready to listen.

“Worse? You’re the one who made it worse, walking in on us like that! What were you thinking?” he roared, shoving him.

“I could ask you the same thing! You know better than t’ mess with a woman like that!”

Ben laughed cynically before snarling at his friend.

“That’s rich, coming from you. How many stories have I had to listen to, about you and some _whore_ in York City, or New Haven, or Greenland, or god knows where else?”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Tallboy, listen t’ me. I know I ain’t blameless, but Miss Eleanor’s an unmarried woman , and somethin’ like this might soil her reputation forever.”

Ben looked dumbfounded at Caleb.

“Have you lost your mind? Frida is an unmarried woman, you arse!”

“Yeh, but she ain’t the commander’s daughter.”

That was able to shut him up for a moment. That realization hit Ben like a slap in the face. Caleb continued his little lecture.

“I just want ye to think about what yer doin’. Don’t want either of ye to hurt yerselves, a’right? She’s a fine woman and yer a good man. You’ve got a good thing goin’. Don’t spoil it.”

As true as Caleb’s words rang, Ben didn’t want to listen to them. He stormed past his friend, clenching his fists instead.

“Oi, where you goin’?”

“To get a drink,” he answered hotly.

Caleb sighed. He hadn’t meant to mess things up, but this was the happiest he’d ever seen his friend, and he certainly didn’t want him to ruin it.

A drink sounded like a pretty good idea.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ella had taken out all her finest gowns (at least the ones she could fit in her chest—she had several more beautiful ones at home that just wouldn’t make it in a military camp), and was inspecting them all closely. She wanted to look her best for the party this evening.

Apparently Colonel Hamilton had sent word that he was arriving with the Frenchman, which had sent Ella’s mother into a whirl. She was trying to organize a party to welcome him, which was turning out to be far more of a task than she wanted. Ella thought her mother had a tendency to make mountains out of molehills when it came to this sort of thing, but then again, she couldn’t deny that her mother was an excellent hostess.

That was part of the reason she’d visited the barn earlier that day—to escape the hurricane in petticoats that was her mother. She hated helping her mother prepare for parties. It had been an excellent opportunity, really; with her mother whirling about, and generally being unpleasant and cross, she wasn’t too likely to notice her daughter’s absence.

And the activities in the barn had been so very nice today…she’d been ashamed of her moaning before, but after she’d given it some thought, what harm had it really done? None. They hadn’t been too intimate. Benjamin was a gentleman. His hands had stayed over her skirts, and he hadn’t kissed anywhere inappropriate. And goodness, had it been wonderful. She blushed as she remembered his lips on her neck, tracing such sweet designs with his tongue, making her squirm with pleasure….perhaps they could continue that tonight.

Hence the difficulty in picking a gown. She wanted to look her absolute best. This wouldn’t be quite the scale of the ball in May, and there would be an actual dinner at this party, so there was no need to pile her hair on top of her head or wear such an elaborate gown.

She eventually settled on her cream colored _robe a l’anglaise_ with a light blue petticoat. It was simple and elegant, but without a fichu, the neckline was almost scandalously low. Almost. She hoped to be rather a tease for Benjamin tonight.

Goodness, she hadn’t felt like this in ages. Had Tom’s letters really been weighing her down so much? She would never be completely rid of his memory, but at least she was happier now.

At that moment, her mother walked into the tiny bedchamber.

“Eleanor! You’re still not dressed?”

Her own mother had swept up her hair and topped it with a small lace pinner cap. She looked wondrous in a dark blue silk gown and creamy petticoat. It was the gown she usually wore when she wanted to match her husband’s uniform.

“Well, I can’t decide! What do you think?”

Ella showed her the choices, and Martha’s frown quickly turned into a smile. This reminded her of Ella’s childhood, when the little girl would whirl about the room in various silks, trying on new gowns for Christmas or her birthday or whatever special occasion was taking place. Right now, Ella even had that little grin like she did when she was ten. Though, the change had come on so quickly...she wondered if this happiness would be short-lived.

Martha chose the dress that Ella had originally chosen. Once she was ready, they were prepared to go downstairs and greet their guests.

“Ahem,” she tutted, gesturing at her daughter’s neckline.

“What?”

“Put a fichu on, please.”

“But Mother—“

Martha fixed her daughter with her best and most unmistakable frown, the one that told her daughter she would give absolutely no quarter in whatever decree she was about to give. “You look like you belong on the prow of a ship. Do you want to create scandal tonight?”

Eleanor scowled. “Aren’t you the one who told me _not_ to wear a fichu when Benjamin first called on me?”

Martha sighed. Yes, she had said that. How would she work her way out of this one? “Yes, but that is because you were only seeing him. Tonight you will be in the company of several different young officers, of all ages. It’s best not to attract unwanted attention.”

Eleanor huffed and consented. _I will wear this silly thing at dinner, but the moment we start to dance, I will throw it away_ , she thought.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This dinner party was much more elaborate than the one back in June, when General Arnold had asked her to the play. There were more people, which warranted more food, and created less seating. Not that Eleanor would have a chance to sit, anyway, seeing as she was supposed to be a social butterfly.

At the moment, she was talking with Lieutenant Colonel Tilghman, whom she had previously met but never really conversed with, Major Tallmadge (she’d been told by her mother to not use his Christian name tonight), and one of General Scott’s daughters.

Ben was trying so hard not to stare, or look at Eleanor with too lovesick an expression, as he didn’t want to betray their secret relationship, but she made it difficult.

As always.

This was the happiest he had seen her in quite some time. He knew she liked parties, but that sometimes she found them draining and silly. He could easily tell when she was feigning amusement and when she was genuinely enthused. Earlier that morning, she’d been genuinely enthused. Or maybe enthused wasn’t the right word…aroused? Maybe that was too strong a word, but her reactions had been so wonderful.

It took him a second to realize that Ella had to excuse herself from the group, as her father was calling her over.

“I’ll be back shortly,” she whispered behind her fan. He smiled. Oh, what a little minx she could be sometimes.

Tilghman looked after her with an amused smile on his face before looking back at Ben.

“So…are you two…”

Oh dear. Perhaps he’d been more obvious than he thought. He would have to feign surprise.

“What? Me, and…Miss Eleanor? No, of course not.”

Tilghman raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

Ben mentally reminded himself not to talk out of turn, or look too interested in Eleanor while in public. So far, it looked like he was failing.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Eleanor had been introduced to so many new people that she wasn’t sure she could keep track of everyone. She really needed to pay more attention to the goings-on in camp, she reminded herself. So far, the only two people she remembered right now were Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton, and the Marquis de Lafayette, the man for whom this party was being thrown.

The Marquis had been very gallant in his introduction, sweeping his hat off and bowing elegantly, taking her hand and kissing it as if she were some great lady at Versailles. She decided immediately that she liked him, (it helped that he was handsome, with his reddish hair, tall stature, and twinkling ice blue eyes), and she had even been able to have a conversation with him in French. He seemed to enjoy that, as he was still learning English, and the only other person who spoke good enough French was Hamilton.

Now, Hamilton was another story. She liked him, but she also got the feeling that he was a bit of a rake. He’d actually approached her first, and introduced himself. A bold move, in her opinion.

“And who is this fine young lady?” Hamilton asked, approaching Lafayette and Eleanor. Her father had left the two of them alone for a bit to move on and socialize with the other guests.

“Ah, _permettez-moi de vous présenter Madamoiselle Eleanor Washington.”_ Allow me to introduce Miss Eleanor Washington.

“ _Enchanté,_ my lady,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it with just as much gallantry as the Marquis had done. How many kisses did that make tonight? Nearly every man who introduced himself to her had kissed her hand.

The Marquis de Lafayette looked quizzically at the two of them.

“You…you do not each other already?” he asked, his words heavily accented by his French tone. Oh, how adorable he was! If she’d never met Major Tallmadge, she would certainly have considered Lafayette.

“No, we have not had the pleasure,” he said, emphasizing the last word. There was a devilish twinkle in his eye, one that caused her to blush lightly.

“I hear you have been off running errands for my father,” she said, trying to divert the conversation.

“Yes, well, such is the life of an aide-de-camp.”

“War keeps you young men so busy, doesn’t it?”

“Naturally. But if it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”

Damn, he was good. No wonder he was known for being such a rake—he was so charming and so easy to fall for. He made everyone feel so at ease and so appreciated.

Ella giggled out of amusement, fluttering her fan close to her neck.

“Why, Colonel Hamilton, I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He gave a dashing smirk, his merry blue eyes twinkling.

“Only very prettiest ones.”

“Sir, you’ll make me blush something fierce,” she answered, her fan fluttering a little faster than before. His attentions were more than she had anticipated, and it was rather hot in the room, but he took the sign of her fluttering fan as a sign that he’d flustered her.

“Ah, but you look very fetching when you blush. Doesn’t she, Gilbert?”

“ _Pardon?”_ asked the Frenchman, his brow still quizzical. It was evident he hadn’t understood all of their conversation quite so well.

“ _Est pas la dame jolie quand elle rougit?”_ Isn’t the lady pretty when she blushes?

Lafayette’s eyebrows raised in understanding. How glad he was to have people who understood his language!

“ _Ah, oui, elle est belle comme la Reine!”_ Ah, yes, she is as beautiful as the queen!

This comment only caused Eleanor to blush more. She wasn’t quite sure how to handle all this attention—sure, she had been called pretty before, and being the center of attention was certainly no novelty to her, but being compared to the queen of France by a charming Frenchman was something entirely different.

“ _Oh, vous êtes trop généreux avec vos compliments.”_ Oh, you are too generous with your compliments.

She was sure the conversation would have escalated from there, but the call to dinner rang out just then. Martha had paired everyone up, and much to Ben’s dismay, Eleanor would be sitting near Lafayette at the table.

At least he was across from her, but he still wished he could be as close to her as possible. He didn’t like the way she smiled at the Frenchman. And it wasn’t in Ben’s nature to be overly possessive, but something about watching Eleanor and Lafayette interact made him just the tiniest bit annoyed.

Ben spoke Greek, Latin, and Hebrew fluently, as if he’d been born in the ancient times, but he had not paid such careful attention to French. He understood it, but not quite as well as Eleanor, apparently. She sounded to him like a true Parisian. He’d have to ask her about that later.

At dinner, Eleanor conversed, half in English, half in French with the Marquis, who was quite effusive in his compliments. Ben was quite sure that the Marquis knew more English than he was letting on, and that he was using that as an excuse to talk to her. But who could resist her charms? He certainly couldn’t blame the man, but he also couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit jealous. He would claim her for the first dance of the evening, to be sure.

He sulked and drank his wine, perhaps a little too quickly. But perhaps the booze would soothe his anger.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The furniture in the drawing room had been cleared away to make space for dancing, and Eleanor had never felt so giddy. She had possibly had a little more wine than usual, but she hadn’t been paying attention. Lafayette’s tales of Versailles were absolutely riveting, and she was not paying attention to her cup. He’d told her about the queen, the fashions, the culture, the gardens, the vineyards…everything he could. He enjoyed this pretty girl’s company, and he was glad for someone to listen to him.

He’d claimed her for the first dance. Ben watched as they bounced about the room, the two of them laughing occasionally. _It’s just a dance,_ he reminded himself as he drained yet another cup of wine. _She’s only just met him. It doesn’t mean anything._

When the dance was finished, the Marquis kissed her on both cheeks, in the French fashion. Perhaps it was a bit forward of him, but then again, it was a party on a late summer’s night, and such behavior could be forgiven.

But not to Ben. Upon witnessing _la bise,_ he clenched his jaw in anger. Those were his cheeks to kiss—what was she thinking?

He loved her. Oh, god, he loved her, and it pained him to see her with anyone else. Hamilton was her next partner, and to his surprise, she stood up with Arnold for the fourth. She’d rejected Arnold’s offer of courtship—how could she face him, let alone dance with him?

A jolly voice jerked him out of his sour thoughts.

“Come now, Major, you must dance. We can’t have you sulking in the corner in this stupid manner,” Hamilton said, clapping him on the back.

“There’s no one to dance with,” he replied sullenly.

“What? Are you blind? There are some right pretty creatures here tonight. I find it hard to believe that—“ the colonel took one look at the major’s glum expression and ceased his teasing.

“Why so gloomy, Tallmadge?” he asked, following the major’s gaze. When it rested on Eleanor Washington dancing with General Arnold, Hamilton understood. “Ah. So you and Miss Eleanor…”

Ben shook his head. “Don’t be absurd.”

“She’s very pretty. And witty as ever. Not to mention rich. Really, a fine catch overall—“

“Yes, Hamilton, I know that,” he replied rather tersely. This cooled Hamilton’s silver tongue for a moment; a rare occurrence indeed.

“Well, ask her to dance. It might improve your mood.”

“I can’t. The Frenchman’s just claimed her,” he said, nodding toward the dance area.

“You’ve got all night, you know.”

Ben crossed his arms, his frown deepening. Hamilton, sensing there was nothing he could do to help, turned his attention back to one of General Scott’s pretty daughters.

He didn’t understand quite why he was so angry—Eleanor had always been flirtatious. That had even been his first impression of her. But why was he feeling so jealous now? What could possibly have happened in the span of a few hours? He’d figure it out later. Right now, he was trying not to lose his temper as she stood up with Lafayette a third time. Really, three dances were enough. Wasn’t she tired yet? She’d even taken off her fichu, revealing a great deal of her ample bosom. Propriety had flown out the window, as far as he could tell.

When this dance ended, Ella retreated to the table, pouring herself a glass of punch and surveying the crowd. After taking a sip, she surveyed the room, looking for her Benjamin. Not seeing him anywhere, she decided she would try the gardens. Perhaps he’d just gone out for some air, as it was rather warm in the drawing room with all the people and motion.

 - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ben watched her silhouette through the windowpane, illuminated by the candlelight inside. And he seethed.

Perhaps it was silly of him, but he didn’t like the way she was behaving. Before the dinner party, she had been absolutely fine. He hadn’t quite liked the way she smiled and batted her eyelashes at the Frenchman, but that was certainly nothing. Then the dinner came. It was as if Eleanor only had eyes for Lafayette. With every little smile, every little touch on a forearm or shoulder, it seemed as if she grew more flirtatious. Like she was leading him on. She hadn’t so much as looked at Ben the entire evening.

And when the dancing started, Lafayette had whisked her away again. Throughout the evening, she accepted compliments and gave compliments from nearly every man who fell under her spell. Why, she had even danced with General Arnold, and told him he looked well. How hypocritical of her. What really made his blood boil was the look on her face after Lafayette had kissed her cheeks. How…how dare she.

He couldn’t deny that she was beautiful—when she had taken off her fichu, she revealed an exquisite white bosom that became the center of discussion amongst some of the younger (and even older) officers. He saw Lafayette, and Hamilton, and many others take lingering looks at her, which only seemed to fuel her disposition.

And he wished he could make her feel those things. Ben knew he wasn’t dashing, like Hamilton, or charming, like Lafayette. He would never be quick with his words or compliments, and he most certainly would never feel quite so at ease around her; he was sure. But she had chosen him, had she not? So why was she galavanting about with every other man but him?

He sulked and took another sip from his glass, the wine only fueling the anger. The last time he drank this much had led to happy events—he and Eleanor had shared their first kiss. Now, she was tipsy and giggly and with another man, whom he couldn’t make out through the windowpane…was it Hamilton? No, the rogue was off in a corner with one of General Scott’s daughters. Ah, it was Lafayette. Ben watched as the Frenchman whispered something in her ear, to which Eleanor responded with a coquettish smirk, hiding most of her face behind her fan.

Ben hissed and plopped himself down in the garden, looking up at the stars. How pathetic this all was.

A rustle of silks caught his ear, and he hastily stood up and turned around, only to be greeted by the nymph herself. What a radiant creature she was—her auburn locks a little loose, her cheeks a little flushed, a happy little grin playing upon her lips—he almost smiled at the sight, but then remembered that her glow was brought on by someone else’s smiles.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked in a voice like satin. She sauntered up to him and placed her hands on his shoulders, bringing those rosy lips up to his in a soft kiss. Ben closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying to calm his nerves. His arms did not wrap themselves around her, like they usually did, and he did not deepen the kiss. He stood there, frozen.

Immediately Eleanor realized something was wrong with him.

“My Adonis, whatever is the matter?”

He uttered a mirthless laugh. “’My Adonis’, you say. Do you actually mean that?”

She looked at him with an alarmed expression. “Well, yes! That’s what I call you,” she answered, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“And I call you my Cytherea, but it seems you’ve given that privilege to other men now.”

“I…what? Benjamin, what are you saying?”

He let out a deep breath, running his free hand through his hair before whirling back around to face her. “How can possibly behave like you are, and think we can still call each other Adonis and Cytherea?”

Her gaze drifted to the glass in his hand, and it was just now that she was noticing his overly florid complexion. He had a tendency to drink when angry, and the results weren’t often positive.

“How much have you had to drink tonight? Here, give me that—“ she reached out timidly, ready to take the glass from him, but he yanked it out of her reach, throwing it against the stones beside them. The cup shattered into several little pieces, and the noise startled Eleanor, causing her to yelp.

“I could be asking you the same thing, but it doesn’t look to me like you’re drunk on wine.”

Eleanor’s concerned expression turned into one of disgust. “What, then? Please, for the love of god, tell me what you’re on about!”

“You’re drunk on that Frenchman’s smiles!” he blurted out, nearly shouting. Eleanor pleaded with him to keep his voice down, but telling an angry, drunk Benjamin to calm down was like stabbing him in the neck and telling him not to bleed.

“I am simply being polite!” she protested, taking his hand and making sure they were out of sight of the house.

“Oh, really? Well when I’m polite, I don’t flutter my fan near my tits and flirt with little French phrases and simper at every officer who comes near me!”

The words stung Eleanor like a slap in the face. How could this possibly be her Benjamin, the one who had danced so gently with her at the ball in May, the one who had kissed her tenderly under the fireworks, or the one who had helped her bury Tom’s letters by the river?

“I think you are unable to tell the difference between common courtesy and flirtation, Major!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you want to know what I think?”

Eleanor was clenching her fists by her side, and fighting back hot, angry tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “What more could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I think you’re a hypocrite.”

She gasped out loud at his blunt response, but he continued talking, giving her no time to retort.

“I seem you remember you moaning in pleasure this morning, in pleasure that I was giving to you, and you were ashamed to feel such things. You ran away because you couldn’t bear it, but it seems you’re perfectly alright to dance with any every other man in the room and let them shower you with kisses and compliments.”

The very tendrils framing her face shook with anger. “So you think I’m a slut, then? Is that you think of me?” she cried at him, her voice rising and trembling.

Benjamin was burning with rage. He could have stopped himself, but the words came out before he could stop them.

“Yes. I think you’re a slut. And it’s only a matter of time before someone finds you on that Frenchman’s lap, whispering to him the very same things you whisper to me—“

He was cut off with a fantastic slap from Eleanor, loud as the crack of whip. Had she been taller and had a little more strength, she might have broken skin. Still, it was enough to cause him to hold his cheek with one hand, as if any little bit of pressure would stop the pain.

“How. Dare. You. I came out here to see you, and to see if we could resume our activities from this morning. But now I see that you’re not deserving of them. A gentleman would never insult a lady as you have. I hope you realize what a fool you are.”

With that, she turned on her heel and marched back into the house. But Ben wasn’t about to let her have the last word.

“Oh, sure, fine, go find one of your swains to kiss away your tears,” he shouted at her retreating form.

She refused to do him even the privilege of looking back in anger.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Once inside the safety of the house, Eleanor stopped to catch her breath. What a horrid thing Benjamin had said to her! Did he mean it? Was she really being a slut? Or was he simply being vindictive? She was so overwhelmed by her feelings, and unable to face the mob of people in the drawing room. So, she slunk against the wall of the hallway, skirts billowing up around her, and cried.

She had to be quiet, as she did not want to draw too much attention, but it was proving difficult. Her shoulders were shaking, and she was sure her face was red as a beet and stained with tears. It wouldn’t make a pretty sight. She stayed like that for some time before she felt a gentle hand on one of her shaking shoulders.

“ _Madamoiselle? Êtes-vous bien?”_ Miss? Are you alright?, came the Marquis’s gentle voice.

She looked up briefly, shaking her head, unable to speak.

To her surprise, he sat down next to her and patted her shoulder until the tears subsided. “ _Dites-moi, quel est le problème?”_ Tell me, what is the problem?

She took a deep shuddering breath and sniffled. He smiled ruefully and took out an exquisite handkerchief. She thanked him, dabbing her eyes and forcing herself to look at him. “ _Vous ne comprendriez pas.”_ You wouldn’t understand.

He looked at her earnestly. What a pleasing face he had—so kind, so calm…so unlike Benjamin’s a few minutes ago.

“ _Je peux essayer_.” I can try, he said, patting her back again.

“Oh, very well,” she said. With that, she launched into the story of her and Benjamin—when they first met, the independence day party, the first kiss, burying the letters, and even the awkwardness that had transpired earlier that morning. She spoke mostly in English, and Lafayette stopped her when he didn’t understand, so she would explain in French.

After he heard her tale of woe, he smiled and sighed, shaking his head a little.

“Benjamin is a fool,” he remarked, scowling at the floor.

“And that’s what I told him!” she cried, dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief again.

“If he cannot see what a treasure you are, he is a stupid man indeed.”

Eleanor looked at him with a softness in her eyes. This man was possibly the sweetest man she had ever met.

“Your wife is a very lucky woman,” she said, making a move to stand up. Lafayette arose first, then extending a hand to help her up.

“And Major Tallmadge is a very lucky man,” he quipped, that little smile spreading across his face. “But he is still a fool.”

Eleanor laughed weakly.

“Shall we go back in? I would hate to have our absence look suspicious.”

“Wait a moment. Take a deep breath. I can tell you have been upset.”

She did as he advised, and looked into the small mirror on the wall. She did look like she’d been crying, but perhaps she could pass it off as being tipsy or tired. Before they went in, she tried to return the handkerchief to the Marquis.

“Keep it. I think you need it more than I.”

She smiled weakly and stuffed it into her pocket. When that was done, he offered her his arm and she took it gracefully. The two of them entered the drawing room as if nothing had happened, and it was all smiles for the rest of the evening.

Or, so they thought. All eyes had been on Eleanor for most of the evening, some more critical than others. And someone was watching her every move, scheming and plotting as they went. What fun news this evening would make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I hope everyone had a fantastic day filled with lots of love! 
> 
> As always, thank you so much to Merc and Mimi, who have listened to me whine and complain about this chapter. I've also not been feeling well, so they've both sent multiple virtual hugs and hot beverages to help. Thank you, my dears! I've bookmarked their stories, and I highly recommend them both.


	20. Author's Note

Hello dear readers,    
  
Unfortunately I’ve got some bad news for you all. I will not be continuing this story. In February majorstallmadge decided to give me sole authorship, but now that I have had time to think, I just can’t continue. I’ve fallen out of love with both Ella and Ben. It’s important to me to love the characters I write, and it just felt like a chore.Maybe one day I’ll love them again, but I haven’t loved them for 5 months, so it isn’t promising. I will tell you that after much drama, Ben and Ella end up happily together. They marry and have five daughters and one son, and all is well.   
  
I hope to recreate a new OC with a new plotline, or work in another one of the many AUs I have going in my head. Might even start something with Ensign Baker, because I love him and he deserved better. We shall see.    
  
Thank you all for reading and remaining so faithful. Your comments and encouragement have meant so much to me as a writer this past year. 


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